


stars

by paulwasgay7



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 50's, Abandonment, Angst, Attempted Suicide, Boys Kissing, Character Death, Child Abuse, Cigarettes, Comfort, Crying, Depression, Drinking, Eating Disorders, Jealousy, Leather Jackets, Other, Panic Attacks, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Verbal Abuse, george basically, georgie's confused, greased hair, ignorement, jim mccartney - Freeform, lying, mary mccartney - Freeform, mentioned sex, mike mccartney - Freeform, teddy boy era, teddy boys, third person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulwasgay7/pseuds/paulwasgay7
Summary: “Don’t aim too high son, settle for the worst before settling for the best,”
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

George always thought he had a best friend. 

He had, a best friend. 

Someone to go to the ends of the world with, laughing all the way. 

Someone who stayed. 

For once in George’s life, he had someone who stayed. 

Or so he thought. 

“Don’t aim too high son, settle for the worst before settling for the best,” His dad would say. Gin and Tonic in hand. 

The worst. Yeah, like he needed that. 

Fifteen going on sixteen but looking not older than a ten-year-old. 

Someone who stayed. Someone who, forget it. 

He had a best friend. 

Had. A. Best. Friend. 

It sounds weird to him now. 

It went by so fast he couldn’t even sit down to enjoy it. Enjoy the company. The warmth. 

For once in George’s life, he found someone who stayed. 

Someone, who stayed. 

But oh, he’s being selfish now isn’t he? 

“We gave you the world y’know,” 

Gin and Tonic in hand. 

“We gave you the world.” 

But what if the world, wasn’t enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They can’t love me, so why should I love them?”

Growing up in The Harrison household was normal. 

He didn’t quite know how to describe it to his aunties and uncles when they came to visit. 

“How was your summer?” “How are you in school?” “Where’s that bird of yours?” 

They would pick and pick and pick away at him. 

And he didn’t have the courage to say that his summer was bad and he was failing his classes and he didn’t have a girlfriend. 

But he wouldn’t tell them that. It’s best to let things be. 

But growing up was different then what he expected growing up to be. 

He grew up with his mom, dad, two brothers, and a sister. That's how it always was. That’s how it would always be. 

Unless someone of course decided to go. 

George hoped it was himself. 

It was a dark place, that house, that yard. The way his parents would fight into the night and up into the early hours of the morning. His dad came back drunk and tired and George would pretend to be asleep wishing he could go away. 

His childhood wasn’t very fun. 

He didn’t get many toys or friends to play with. His parents always fought and argued and when they didn’t, they would ignore him. 

Ignorement had become a big deal in the household. George was the only one to ever get ignored. It was never his brothers and sister, just him. 

Just George. 

And thinking about it at night didn’t help either. The constant fear that the people you’re supposed to look up to, to trust, couldn’t even bat an eye at you. 

Thinking like that at five years old made George realize his family didn’t love him.

The thought rattled around in his brain for years and years. 

“They still love me though, they have to. I’m their son,” George would say to himself, rocking back and forth slightly. A shiver running down his neck. 

George was thirteen when he realized he was getting beat, he also realized that no, they didn’t love him. 

They didn’t just ‘not love him’ they couldn’t love him. Was incapable of it. Why? George doesn’t know. No kid would know. No kid would know why their parents hated them to the point where they hurt them. 

They couldn’t love him. 

Could never love him. 

And that thought boiled inside of him for years and years. 

So when his aunts and uncles asked their questions and said their comments, George saw his parents on the other side of the room. 

“They can’t love me, so why should I love them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘You get what you get.’ 
> 
> So when the kids gasped and giggled at George’s stories he couldn’t help but feel even more lost than he already was.

So growing up was shitty, to say the least.

Not normal, but that’s how George would describe it. 

Talking to other kids in the class about their families made George so jealous. Even though being jealous at nine years old was a perfectly normal thing, it felt wrong. 

“I mean, they’re my parents. Why do I want to be far away from them?” He would ask himself. 

The kids in his class would talk about all the fun things they did over break. Like going to Germany or Scotland. George would always smile and try his best to chip in the conversation. 

“I’ve never been out of England,” George would say, causing the kids to turn and stare with wide eyes and open mouths. 

“What? You’ve never been out?” He would scan the room, seeing the expressions of kids' faces shocked with disbelief. 

“What? No, of course, I have,” He lied. That was the first time he ever did, but certainly not the last. 

“You...s-scruffs think I’ve never been outta England,” He said, getting gasps from the boys. 

“Where’d you learn that word?” A boy asked, moving closer to the center of attention. George felt bad for saying it. Bad he swore at nine years old. But he smirked and shrugged the kid off. 

“I’ve been to Chicago,” He said smugly. 

“No, you haven’t!” The boys chuckled.

It started from there, the lying. George felt bad about it walking home from school that day. It was true, he had never been out of England. The furthest he got was Manchester on the train. 

But he got pretty used to it. He would lie about his trips and travels. How he had a big house with a big room. How he had a dog that he could sleep with at night. His parents were rich and proper and his siblings were popular in their schools. 

Of course, everyone bought into it, being kids and all. They would ask about his sister and brothers if they had cars and George would respond with ‘of course they do! You daft?’

Everything seemed easier telling lies. His own little world he could mold and makeup however he wanted. How his parents treated him like every other kid. How they would tuck him in at night and wake him up with breakfast in the morning. 

And just like the kids, he bought into it. Thinking that when he went home, it was better. 

He knows it was dishonest, he knows it was wrong to lie. But how come whenever he pictured this perfect family he felt better than he ever has. 

But he’s being selfish. 

‘You get what you get.’ 

So when the kids gasped and giggled at George’s stories he couldn’t help but feel even more lost than he already was. How he couldn’t just make up one lie, he had to make all of it a lie. 

But the lies certainly made it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading, I hope you like this but tell me what you think! <3 <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy boy. It was the first time he heard of it. 
> 
> Teddy boy. 
> 
> George liked the way it sounded.

His teenage years weren’t any better either. In fact, it was even worse than being a kid in school, lying about their upbringing. 

When you’re a kid, nothing seems to matter. No one cares what you look like, or how you dress. But when you get older, everything changes. 

When George became a teenager he started noticing the different arrays of clothing on other kids. Even though it was a private school, and everyone had uniforms, kids still dressed the way they liked. 

When he was about thirteen he got a leather jacket from his brother as a hand down. He wore that jacket until it faded when he was about seventeen. 

He kept it nice, that jacket. He would hand wash it himself and put it away in his wardrobe with the other clothes he didn’t wear. 

All the kids in his class would take notice of it, eyeing it up and feeling the sleeves. One time a kid yanked up the sleeve a bit too far and showed George’s wrist that was littered with belt marks. Well, they didn’t know that. 

“Shit,” He would pull it down and hide it under the table. 

“What in the bloody hell were those?” They asked. George felt his face heat up. 

“Nothing, just, got caned,” Another lie. 

Wearing the jacket every day did have its downsides. Like getting caned. He would be pulled in the principal's office and have a stern talk. 

Well, the principal talked and George listened and sat quietly. It wasn’t fair. Out of all the kids, he was the one getting in trouble, when he already had it bad enough at home. 

It would always come down to two things. 

One: He gets his parents to come in, Or two, he gets caned. 

George always picked the second option. 

He never knew what was wrong with his clothes every time he was brought in. Every once in awhile someone would say ‘oh that teddy boy over there.’

Teddy boy. It was the first time he heard of it. 

Teddy boy. 

George liked the way it sounded. It sounded nice. When he asked his friends about it all they did was laugh. 

“He is like a ted isn’t he?” They would snicker. 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“Nothing Georgie, but parents won’t like you very much,” They patted his back and ruffled up his hair. 

After that, he went to his mom. 

“Mom, what’s a teddy boy?” He asked as she was cleaning the dishes one evening. 

“A horrible child,” Was all she said. George swallowed and sunk back into his chair. 

Throughout the school year, he tried to understand what it was, how he could be one. A horrible child, that’s what it was. 

Moving over to Peter’s side of the bed one night, he asked him the same question. 

“Uh, leather-wearing, greased hair, drinker,” He listed it off his fingers while lighting a cigarette. 

“Oh,” George sighed in relief. He wasn’t any of those. Except for the leather jacket. 

“You want one?” He asked George. George sat up. 

“No?” Peter chuckled. 

“Come on, you’re old enough,” He took one out of the pack and handed it to him. He showed him how to hold it. 

“Here,” George gripped the lighter and lit the cigarette, after a few tries of course. He took a long drag and immediately coughed. 

“You’ll get used to it.” He patted his back. George felt his eyes tear up. “Try again,” He took his shaky hand and brought it back to his mouth. This time he didn’t cough. 

He remembers sitting in the living room with his dad. Barely saying a word to each other. He would look and see him take a drag of a cigarette. George always wondered if that was what made his dad so mad at him. 

After a couple more cigarettes that night, he got used to it. 

“Right, time for bed,” Peter put out George’s cigarette and turned off the light. “Oh yeah,” Peter nudged George’s arm. 

“What?” 

“They smoke too,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s ‘fab’?” He asked. 
> 
> “Hmm? Oh, it just means like, great,” He smiled. George snickered. 
> 
> “Oh, fabulous,” He said. The boy laughed too. 
> 
> “Yeah, fabulous,”

Smoking became a regular thing in George’s life. 

He would smoke behind the school during break and lunch with others who discovered it too. 

Sometimes he wouldn’t even notice that he took out one and lit it. Obviously he hid it from his parents, even though his dad could smoke as much as he wanted in the house. George was almost tempted to steal his pack when he ran out. 

He got them from his brother whenever he would come on. 

“Pete, did you get any?” He would whisper and follow him up the stairs. Then he would crack his window open and smoke while Peter spoke to his girlfriend over the phone. 

He got his first guitar about a week after he started smoking. His mom said it would be good for him to take up something. But really it was because she wanted him to play venues and make money. But he didn’t know that, not yet of course. 

George didn’t mind. He always fancied guitars. He would draw them in his math class, before getting in trouble of course. 

But he learned quickly, he got pretty good at it. And he was happy his parents finally got to praising him for something. They still ignored him of course. 

The second semester of school started after winter break and George was quite happy to go to school smoking and playing guitar. 

The first day went by quick and before George knew it he was being crammed in the hallway of the bus taking him home. He took the first empty seat he could get and clutched his guitar closer to him. 

“You play too?” A voice spoke. George turned his head to see a boy about a year older than him, giving him a soft smile. 

“Uh, yeah, just started,” George smiled back. 

“That’s fab, my dad never lets me take mine to school,” George nodded. 

“What’s ‘fab’?” He asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, it just means like, great,” He smiled. George snickered. 

“Oh, fabulous,” He said. The boy laughed too. 

“Yeah, fabulous,” 

“I’m George,” He stuck his hand out. The boy shook it. 

“Paul,” 

It was as if all the nerves in his body that were tensed just released into his hand. Like the world had come to an end and all that was left was their hands, locked together forever. The way George’s eyes lit up for the first time in a while. 

“Oh this is me,” Paul said, jumping up and shifting through the crowds of legs all down the aisle. 

“Uh, bye,” George waved. Paul smiled. 

“Bye,” He waved back and walked down the steps. He ran back up them and handed George a piece of paper. 

“Here, you’re real fab George,” He smiled. George took it and nodded. George felt his whole face heat up and smile as he looked at the note. 

“(212) 313-9547 -Paul McCartney,” 

McCartney.

Paul McCartney. 

George liked the way it sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah finally am I right?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you wanna do?” Paul finally asked. George was a bit surprised and bit his lip to think. 
> 
> “Hmm,” He turned his head up to the sky. It was like a canvas, with the pinks and oranges littered throughout it. The stars were well pronounced for the first time in a while.

After that bus trip, George and Paul became, well, George and Paul. 

They would do everything together after George dialed his number with a shaky hand. George introduced him to his group of friends, and Paul did the same with his. 

“Guys, this is my new friend George,” Paul would say, wrapping an arm around him. 

“Hi, my new friend George,” A kid said, patting his head. “I’m Ivan,” He smiled. George smiled too. 

“Bit young innit he?” They all said, crowding around him. George blushed and stared at the crowd of older kids. Some were about fifteen, Paul had told him. 

“Um well,” George squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. “Age is just a number, right?” The crowd burst out in laughter and took their turns ruffling George’s hair. 

“He ain’t that bad,” George smiled at that. 

One night after school Paul and George found themselves laughing and tackling each other down in a field. They sat up against a wall that had been part of an old blown-up house. 

“What-what do you-” Paul burst out laughing. 

“Calm down,” George said, patting his back. Paul wiped the tears out of his eyes. 

“What do you wanna do?” Paul finally asked. George was a bit surprised and bit his lip to think. 

“Hmm,” He turned his head up to the sky. It was like a canvas, with the pinks and oranges littered throughout it. The stars were well pronounced for the first time in a while. 

‘What do you wanna do?’ The question echoed in his head. 

It was a perfectly normal question. Something a teacher or parent would ask. But the way they asked it, wasn’t the way Paul asked it. 

They were just filling time, Paul wasn’t.

There was something special with the way he said it, something that made George’s heart skip a beat. 

He sighed, pointed at the sky, and finally answered. “That,” Paul turned his gaze to the sky. 

“That?” George nodded. Paul sighed and moved in closer, resting his head on George’s shoulder. George awkwardly wrapped his arm around him. 

George was expecting a ‘what’ or ‘that’s so stupid’ but all he got was:

“Me too,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're so soft!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We gave you the world,” 
> 
> And for the first time in a while, the voice in his head agreed with him. 
> 
> “She can give you the world too,”

After that painted starry night, George and Paul became closer than ever. Running down streets and playing guitar to any family member who was willing to hear them. 

Paul and George skipped up Paul’s house for the first time one day. 

“This is the kitchen, these are the stairs,” Paul listed as he walked George through the house. 

“There’s Mike, he’s a big head,” Paul said, ruffling his younger brother’s hair. 

“Please Paul, leave me alone,” Mike said pushing his hand away. 

“Hello, I’m George,” George stuck his hand out to the boy. 

“I don’t care,” He pushed past George with ease and made his way up the stairs. 

“Don’t take it to heart, he’s never nice to any of us,” George smiled. 

“You have other siblings?” Paul burst out laughing. 

“I wish! I mean me and my parents,” 

“Right,” George had forgotten about parents. What was he thinking, Paul was left alone with no supervision. 

“Come on, let me show you my room,” Paul grabbed George’s hand and dragged him upstairs. 

Once in it, George was surprised at how decorated it was. There were posters and records on his shelves, his bed was made nicely with a baby blue comforter. 

Paul’s room was also clean, George wishes he could say the same. 

Suddenly the door clicked and George shot his head up. 

“It’s all right,” Paul chuckled.

“Boys, I’m home,” A woman's voice spoke. 

“Mom!” Paul shouted and ran downstairs, George following at a slower pace. George saw Paul jump into his mother’s arms. 

“Hello to you too sweetheart,” She kissed his head. 

‘That’s how mothers should be,’ George thought shuffling down the stairs. 

“Hello?” She spoke. 

“Hi, I should go sorry,” George said. 

“No please stay, Paul rarely has friends over,” 

“O-ok,” He said shyly. “I’m George,” 

“It’s very lovely to meet you, George,” She shook his hand. 

It was as if George felt love for the first time. He knew that this was what he was supposed to feel whenever his parents were in the room. He felt safe. Loved. 

After that Mary made them a cup of tea and scones that George happily grabbed. He wasn’t used to all this attention, the best he got was at the playground. 

Paul sipped his tea as George handed him a scone. 

“You should have one, they’re good,” Paul smiled and took it. 

“I know, their me mom’s,” George giggled. Paul slowly took a bite out. 

“George, are you staying for dinner?” Mary asked. 

“Oh no, my parents probably want me back,” 

“Alright then. But please come again, Paul seems to like you,” She ruffled his hair. George blushed and tried to hide it with his tea, but his smile was too big. 

When he got back that afternoon he remembered why he hated coming home. The fighting between his parents was right on time and the ‘where the bloody hell have you been?’ started. 

George sighed, and went up to his room. 

That night he dreamt that Mary was his mom, his own perfect mom. Who looked after him, made him breakfast in the mornings, and tucked him in at night. 

But then he stopped because that's selfish. 

“We gave you the world,” 

And for the first time in a while, the voice in his head agreed with him. 

“She can give you the world too,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We gave you the world,” 
> 
> ‘Well, give me a new one I don’t want it. I don’t want this. I don’t care if it’s selfish. She gave me the world, not you. What the bloody hell have you given me?’

Going over to Paul’s house became normal for George. 

Once a week turned to every other day, and that soon turned to every day. He didn’t tell his parents about his new friend. For one he knew they wouldn’t care. So he didn’t say anything. 

But George would come over after school with Paul and he would always be excited to see Mary, and sometimes Jim. 

When he first met Jim he was a little scared. He was scared of any of his friends' fathers just because of his own. 

But Jim was nice, knew he was a Ted the minute he saw him but, he liked him. 

One Saturday evening George went with Paul. They had spent the afternoon running errands for Paul’s grandparents and looking at records and clothes through shop windows. 

Paul skipped up the steps but George was hesitant. 

“This isn’t your house,” He said softly. 

“What? Oh I know, this is my Aunt’s,” 

“Oh,” George stepped up the stairs too and walked in after Paul. He could hear crying from the kitchen. 

“Is everything alright?” Paul asked the lady who George assumed was his aunt. 

“Paul-Paul she passed,” 

It’s like George could see everything at once. Paul’s pupils dilated, his eyes growing bigger. His hands curled up into fists and before he knew it Paul dropped his bag and was running out the door and down the street. 

“Paul!” He chased after him, dropping his bag as well. 

‘Why is he running, why is he running, why is he runnin-’ It kept echoing in his mind, rolling from side to side hitting the walls of his head as he kept running. 

He chased after him and he soon found himself at Paul’s house. He ran into it and up the stairs where he went and he stopped. 

He stopped. 

He stopped and stood at the doorway that Paul had gone through. 

In the room were Paul, Jim, and Mike. All huddled together next to a bed with a doctor standing over it. 

He wanted Mary to come up the stairs. 

He hoped that it was just an aunt, or grandma, or a bloody dog for all that mattered. 

He just wanted her to come up the stairs. 

‘I packed you a lunch for school too George,’ 

‘Such a shame she had to go,’ 

Mary’s voice. It was her voice it had to be. 

But no one was standing in the hallway. 

They were all in that room. Crying. 

One perfect family was crying. 

And when Paul pulled Mike closer and hugged him George’s heart dropped. 

‘We gave you the world, and now someone’s taking it away from you,’ 

As Paul’s tears streamed down his face George couldn’t help but cry too. 

‘Why am I crying? She isn’t my mom, she’s Paul’s mom,’ 

Paul’s mom. 

This all-consuming emotion swept him away like the wind, sending shivers down his spine to his fingertips. 

“We gave you the world,” 

‘Well, give me a new one I don’t want it. I don’t want this. I don’t care if it’s selfish. She gave me the world, not you. What the bloody hell have you given me?’

George only left when Paul looked up at the doorway. Eyes puffy and red. Any boy seen crying would cover up and laugh it off but Paul just stared. 

Like he trusted him. 

Not a word was spoken between them but somehow, somehow in his little thirteen-year-old brain he knew that he trusted him. 

George ducked into the hallway and made his way downstairs, still hoping she was just brewing a cup of tea. That she was helping Paul with his math homework. 

And when the cold October night hit his face, he knew it was real. 

She was the mother he always wanted but never got. 

And stepping outside, he realized that. For the first time, he did. 

She was the mother he told the kids about in class and the one he dreamed of at night. 

And he never got to thank her. Thank her for her tea and scones. And the clothes she gave George after Paul had grown out of them. And for just being there. 

For staying. 

For once in George’s life, he found someone who stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad one sorry <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes George would get cold. 
> 
> Those were the best nights. George would scoot over to Paul’s side of the bed and slip under his arm. George was always scared he would get caught and be pushed aside, but Paul would stir and pull him closer.

After Mary’s death, George didn’t see Paul for a while. 

He would see him on the bus, sitting alone with his head in his hands looking out the window. 

George wanted to go over and comfort him, but whenever he did Paul would just shut down. He would get all quiet and still, barely saying a word to him. 

George felt bad. He had never lost anyone, he didn’t know what it felt like. George always thought he would just feel sad. And of course he did. But he never knew it would be for Paul. 

He decided to leave him alone, give him space. He knew that much. 

Days seemed to go by slower without Paul laughing by his side. He forgot that he had other friends to hang out with, but none of them were like Paul. Paul was different. 

He eventually remembered that he had to go home at some point. He couldn’t just spend the night at Paul’s all the time. 

Sometimes when he was over there, he would be wide awake. Even though it’d be one in the morning, he didn’t care. He wasn’t used to sleeping in such a comfortable bed. Sleeping next to Paul, he couldn’t help but let his eyes drift through the room, looking at all his things. 

Wishing it were his. 

But he quickly stopped those thoughts. Keeping them in the back of his mind, tucked away. He let his gaze fall down to Paul. He was dead asleep, he should be. Paul and George stayed up so late laughing at nothing because they were so delusional. 

But he would watch him sleep, watching his stomach rise and fall softly, his nose twitched every so often making George smile. 

Sometimes George would get cold. 

Those were the best nights. George would scoot over to Paul’s side of the bed and slip under his arm. George was always scared he would get caught and be pushed aside, but Paul would stir and pull him closer. 

He forgot the feeling of his old house, his old room. He forgot how his bed creaked when he got into it at night. And when he got cold, there was no Paul to cuddle with. 

His room was cold and lonely. Even though Peter was right next to him, it felt lonely. 

“Always wanting more,” His voice echoed. 

The bed was barely big enough to fit both of them. It was fine for George, it took thirteen years of practice to know how to curl up and save space. 

That night, he dreamt about Mary. Dreamt that she was all his and he was all hers. He would run up after school and greet her at the door with a big hug. 

Then she would make him tea and ask him about school and how he was feeling. Then he would go to sleep in his big bed that he could spread out in. 

“Bit selfish innit?” He thought the next morning. 

“I suppose, but she’s gone now, isn’t she?” He yelled back at it. He chuckled thinking that he was having a row with his own thoughts. 

It took about two weeks for Paul to start talking with him again. Sitting next to him on the bus and at lunch. Even having the courage to invite him over. 

George was happy. But deep down in the pit of his stomach there was a feeling. He didn’t know what it was, or how he could feel something so, terrible. 

But he felt it. 

And walking into the house made it even worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So that night, he dreamt about something new.
> 
> He dreamt that he was all Paul’s, and Paul was all his. 
> 
> It was a feeling he couldn’t quite decipher, but for some reason, it made his heart grow again.

It was a feeling he couldn’t quite decipher. 

It was as if his heart was shrinking more and more. Or it was being devoured by something, something bad. 

He knew he should be sad, of course, he should be sad. His friend’s mom just died and he was there. Well not there, if he was “there” then he probably wouldn’t have the strength to talk to Paul ever again. 

So he and Paul would hang out, but it was different. It wasn’t as fun. 

There would always be silence when they spent time together. When they would play their guitars or go to Woolton, they would be quiet. And of course, George knew why Paul was quiet, but he wanted him to at least talk. 

“That’s bloody fucking selfish,” His voice echoed. He knew that too. His mom just fucking died, and he wanted Paul to pay attention to him. 

He wanted Paul to pay attention to him. As selfish as it was, he wanted Paul to be Paul again. And that feeling kept growing and growing. 

“So fucking selfish,” 

It was consuming him. He didn’t know why he wanted Paul to pay attention to him. No one should be paying attention to George. ‘Georgie’s worthless! Innit he? He lives in a shitty house with shitty parents who couldn’t give a fuck about him! They show how much they love him by beating him at night! And he wants more! He always fucking wants mor-”

“I’m going home,” Paul mumbled, lifting himself off the ground. George raised his head. 

“Alright,” 

“Night,” Paul began to walk away. George stayed still. 

Paul stopped and turned around. “How come you never invite me over?” 

‘Cause I’m worthless,’ 

“Dunno,” He shrugged his shoulders. Paul wrapped his arms around himself. 

“Fuck you,” George stared. 

“What did I do?” 

“Everything. Why couldn’t you have invited me over?” 

“I don’t know-”

“But you do!” George flinched. “You do know! Just fucking tell me why!” 

George stood up but stayed against the wall. 

“My parents y’know,” He let out a laugh. Paul didn’t. 

“What about 'em?” Paul stepped closer. “Why can’t I ever come over?” 

“I don’t-” 

“You just said your parents,” The feeling kept growing. 

‘Tell him, Georgie! Tell him about what they do to you! Oh, that’s right, you can’t. You’re too much of a softy to say anything! Why you scared or something? Oh, that’s right, they told you not to say anything. If you do they’ll find out, they’ll find out and they’ll hurt you so much-’

“I can’t,” Paul raised his eyebrow. 

“You can’t? You can’t tell me why?” George shook his head. “I invite you over every goddamn day!” He pushed him against the wall. George’s head hit the bricks. 

“Stop,” He tried to feel his head for blood. 

“Stop? You want me to stop? Fuck you!” He pushed him again. His hearing started to get all fuzzy. 

“Please stop,” Paul kicked him in the stomach. 

“Tell me why George!” George felt like throwing up. 

‘This is what you get,’ He couldn’t even hear his voice anymore. It was just a blur. 

Paul started hitting his chest. “Fucking tell me! Just tell me-”

“They hurt me!” Paul stopped but still had a tight grip on George. 

“They hurt me, and I’m not supposed to tell you that,” George hadn’t noticed he was crying. 

Paul let go of him. 

“I’m sorry Paul, I’m so sorry I can’t have you over,” George covered his face with his hands. 

“Please don’t cry Geo, I’m sorry,” Paul wrapped his arms around him. George returned the favor. 

“Don’t make me go back there, please,” Paul only nodded and wrapped his arm around George’s shoulders to keep him steady as they walked home. 

Paul cleaned him up with a washcloth while apologizing. George accepted it, chuckling while he said he got much worse at home. Paul didn’t. 

That night Paul curled up to him, breathing softly. 

“You’re my best friend George,” George smiled down at him. 

“You’re mine too Paul,” He nuzzled his head. 

“I’ll never hurt you again, I promise,” 

George sighed and stared up at Paul’s ceiling. The feeling in his stomach went away for that night, and it was replaced with something new. 

Paul felt nice in his arms. 

So that night, he dreamt about something new.

He dreamt that he was all Paul’s, and Paul was all his. 

It was a feeling he couldn’t quite decipher, but for some reason, it made his heart grow again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He's real fab, and you're not,'

It was the summer of 1957, George was five months into being fourteen. He spent more and more of his time with Paul. It was back to the way it was before. Laughing and playing. 

Paul spent time with him. So he was obviously surprised when Paul didn’t pick up the phone one afternoon. 

“I’m sure he’s just busy,” His sister said, patting him on the head. 

“Paul? You think Paul’s busy?” She laughed and pinched his cheek. 

George could have accepted that Paul was doing something else. Something better. But like the selfish git he was, he couldn’t. So he rode his bike over to his house. 

George knocked on the door. 

“What?” Mike said opening it. 

“Where’s Paul?” Mike rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know, and I couldn’t care less,” He started to shut the door. 

“Come on Mike please?” Mike scoffed. 

“He said he was going to Woolton with his friend, that’s all I know,” 

“Right, thanks,” George walked down the steps and sat on the curb in front of Paul’s house. 

‘He’ll be back soon, he has to be,’ 

George sat outside and waited. 

He didn’t know why he did, but he did. To be honest, he didn’t know why he did a lot of things, but he just did. 

But for this particular reason, he didn’t know why he was waiting. All of his other friends, the ones he had that is, he couldn’t care less if they were home. Let alone wait outside for them. 

‘This is pathetic, let’s go home,’ But he stayed. He knew he could easily get on his bike and go get a pack of ciggies and hang out with one of his friends that we're home, but he didn’t. He didn’t know why he did the things he did, he just did them. 

And even though the air was getting a bit cold, he still stayed. And when a dog came up and almost bit his face-off, he still stayed. And even when Mike came up and teased him, he still stayed. 

Finally, his thoughts got the best of him and he went home. 

The next time he saw Paul was probably two days later. He rode up to his house and Paul’s dad told him he was outside in the back garden. 

George smiled seeing him there. He was under a tree strumming his guitar and writing down something. 

“Whatcha doing?” George asked, sitting next to him. 

“Writing,” Paul didn’t even look up from his guitar. 

“Writing what?” George tried to peer over his shoulder. 

“A song,” George smiled. 

“That’s fab,” 

“I suppose,” George’s smile faded. Did Mike tell him something? Did he tell him that George had been waiting outside their house like a bloody dog?

“You alright?” That’s when Paul looked up. 

“Oh yeah, sorry. I get real lost when I do things like this,” He giggled. 

“Can I see?” Paul nodded and handed him the paper. It was a nice song, like a normal love song with some guitar notes added. He looked in the top right-hand corner. 

‘J.L,’ 

“Well Paulie, this is stolen,” He handed it back to him. Paul laughed. 

“Yeah, he wrote it, I’m writing some guitar chords to it,” 

“Who’s this ‘he’ when they’re at home?” Paul bit the inside of his mouth. 

“Name’s John, I met him on Saturday,” 

“Gear,” 

“Yeah, he’s seventeen, he has his own band. And he writes music, he’s real fab,” 

“He sounds nice-”

“And he lives in a big house up in Woolton, I haven’t been yet but I’m dying to go,” Paul paused and giggled. “And he was drunk off his mind when I met him…”

George sat and stared watching Paul talk on and on about this boy. 

“He’s real fab,” It kept echoing in his mind. “You’re real fab Geo,” He remembered him saying that. 

‘I’m fab I thought, not him. How can two people be fab?’ He thought as Paul rambled. 

George smiled and laughed whenever Paul did despite not hearing a word he said. 

It was a new feeling, and if he knew what it was when it started, maybe things would’ve turned out better. 

Maybe he could’ve gotten some help. 

A new feeling boiled in his stomach and through his blood and all George did was smile. 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

“He’s real fab,” 

'He's real fab. and you're not,'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo, someone's getting obsessed. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think of this so far, and a warning it is gonna get pretty dark more and more from here, ok Bye!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George had noticed that when he was alone, he felt the most scared. 
> 
> And that feeling was boiling inside of him, and one day. He took it too far. 
> 
> But for now, he was safe. He was curled up in his bed that was surprisingly warm for once. 
> 
> Safe, and alone.

‘Why didn’t you invite me over?’

‘Why didn’t you invite me over?’

‘Why didn’t you invite me over?’

‘Why didn’t you invite me over?’

‘Why didn’t you invite me over?’

‘Why didn’t you invite me ov-’

“Mr. Harrison,” A hard slap landed across his desk. George jolted awake. 

“Sorry,” The kids laughed. He gave pity on him and walked back to the front of the classroom. 

Paul snickered. “Good one,” George smiled at him. “John would’ve cussed him out,” His smile faded. 

Paul always talked about John. George noticed it got more and more frequent. It used to be just music. Like how he knew a chord or a song that was popular. Then when school started the John talk became heavier and heavier. 

“John didn’t go here y’know? He went to a posh school. He’s almost graduated now you see? He’s gonna be a college bloke who gets all the birds. Sorry for giggling mate, John always comments on it. Says it’s like a doll laugh. Doll laugh? How the bloody hell can a doll laugh? I asked him, but he didn’t say anything, he just smoked his pipe. Oh yeah, we smoke me dad’s stuff now. Gets us real high you see? You wanna try some…”

He felt bad for hating it. Paul was his friend, and he wanted him to shut up. He loved hearing him speak. The way words rolled off of his tongue always made George smile, but when John’s name came off him he would shudder. 

“You should meet him,” Paul said at lunch one day. 

“Should I?” Paul nodded. 

“Yeah, we need a good guitarist,” George smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Yeah, alrigh-”

“Great! It’s gonna be lots of fun. I’ll call you tonight,” And with that Paul got up and left. 

That night he got a call from Paul telling him to wait outside with his guitar. He complied and Paul hung up before he could even ask why. 

So he sat outside his house on his curb, his head in the clouds as his parents would say. He was almost tempted to call Paul back to tell him that he didn’t want to meet John. He was scared to. 

He was confused when a bus pulled up and Paul stuck his head out and waved. 

George was taught about stranger danger, and not to board a bus without his parents at hand, but Paul looked so pret-good in the window, so he went on. 

They were on the second floor of the bus and George nervously walked up the stairs to them. When he got there, he was met with Paul and three other boys.   
“There he is,” Paul said, patting the seat across from him. George carefully walked over to it and sat down. 

“This is Georgie,” Paul ruffled his hair. 

“Hi there Georgie,” An older boy shook his hand. George smiled and then pushed the hair out of his eyes. “I’m John,” 

‘He’s real fab-’

“Hi,” 

“C’mon Geo, get your guitar out,” Paul nudged him. 

“Ok,” George got it out of his case. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Um, play Raunchy, you’re good at that.” George smiled and began to play it in front of those three boys. 

Once he was done, John smirked at him. 

“Good job kid,” George thanked him. “How old are you?” 

“I’ll be fifteen on the twenty-fifth,” John looked at his mates. 

“You’re not bad but, bit too young,” 

“Oh c’mon John, we can make him look older y’know?” John sighed. 

“Alright, but we just need you to fill in, alright?” George nodded. 

The bus made its way back round to George’s house and George got out of his seat. 

“You coming, Paul?” George asked. 

“Oh, no I’m staying at John’s tonight,” 

“Alright,” George got off the bus with a tear in his heart. 

George crept up the stairs and opened his door. He set his guitar down and crawled into bed next to his brother. 

“Where’d you go?” He asked half asleep. 

“With some friends,” George quickly made up. “Why’d you ask?” 

“Dunno just wanna make sure you’re safe,” George curled up at the thought. 

‘I am safe, right? I’m super safe,’ 

“Alright,” It was the last thing spoken for a few minutes. 

“Is everything okay with you?” George stayed silent. “Cause you’ve been acting pretty strange lately,” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” 

“Alright,” 

It took a few hours for George to fall asleep that night. With the fighting from his parents, and the thoughts in his head. 

They barely seemed to calm down. 

It was like an ocean. Thought after thought crashing into each other, trying to be the most noticed.   
But he eventually found sleep. Curled up in his little ball, where not even John could hurt him. 

He was safe. 

But no matter how alone he was, or how little ‘John’s’ came up in a conversation, he would never truly be safe. 

George had noticed that when he was alone, he felt the most scared. 

And that feeling was boiling inside of him, and one day. He took it too far. 

But for now, he was safe. He was curled up in his bed that was surprisingly warm for once. 

Safe, and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This all-consuming emotion whatever the bloody fuck it was, George didn’t know. It kept picking away at him. Like his aunties and uncles, like his parents. Like his own fucking head. It wouldn’t stop, it’s never going to stop. 
> 
> ‘You get what you get,’

George wasn’t the first one to say that John wasn’t so bad.

Paul was right. He was a posh kid. He grew up in the middle class in a big house out in Woolton. And even though he was rich, he still dressed like a Ted. 

He had a girlfriend named Cynthia who was nice to George too. She would pinch his cheek and giggle at how cute he was which made George smile. 

John was older, he was about three years ahead of little Georgie. That was a thing they made fun of him for a lot. They, because it wasn’t just John, it was Paul too. Before John age never really mattered to Paul and George. Paul was always nine months older than George, but he never really cared about it. 

But ever since John, Paul had made those nine months stretch into a new big thing. Nine months was now like two years to Paul. 

Paul never really hung out with George anymore. Paul would say it was because he was a year eleven, and he had lots more work than a year ten like George. 

George didn’t mind it, he liked hanging out with John and Cynthia. Well, if you’d call it hanging out. George would follow the couple around like a lost puppy, walking into stores and bars after them. 

George had just hit puberty, so he had started growing some hair, not a lot. Not enough to look like an eighteen-year-old. But John would sneak him in and they would have drinks in the corner booth. 

“Two pints, and a coke for the lad,” John said, patting his head. John smirked at George’s glare. 

George had taken an interest in John. Apart from following him around all day, he would also look at his pictures in the evenings when they went to practice over at his house. 

‘He’s got a mom and dad,’ He thought to himself, looking at the photos in the hallway, slowly making his way downstairs. 

‘Stop you git, that’s rude,’ George shuffled downstairs. 

“No, I refuse,” Paul said, crossing his arms. 

“Refuse what?” George sat in John’s chair and placed his guitar in his lap. 

“John got us a gig playing after Rory Storm and the Hurricanes,” 

“That’s great-”

“No George! They’re the greatest band in Liverpool. We can’t just go after them,” John sighed. 

“It’ll be fine,” John said, rubbing Paul’s shoulder, making George’s blood tingle. 

They spent the whole evening practicing songs until George of course had to go. 

“Your parents must be strict, yeah?” John asked, lighting a cigarette. George only nodded and said goodbye to Paul, who waved. 

When he was walking back home it started to rain softly. George wasn’t that surprised. It was almost March, and it was still bloody raining. 

As he walked, he couldn’t help but let a few tears slip from his eyes. 

‘Why are you crying? Why are you fucking crying?’ He asked himself. He didn’t know. It was another one. Another feeling boiling inside of him. 

‘He just kept touching him, why did he keep touching him?’ George tried wiping his eyes. 

The more and more he cried the heavier and heavier the rain got until he was soaking wet and bawling his eyes out. He made his way under a roof that stuck out into the alley and tried to calm himself down. 

‘Just breathe,’ He told himself as he held his legs up to his chest. 

George was too scared and too cold to walk back home. So he just waited for the rain to clear up. 

‘He’s real fab,’ 

‘He’s real fab,’ 

‘He’s real fab,’ 

It kept echoing in his mind, each one getting louder and louder than the rest. 

He wanted it to stop, he wanted all of it to stop. He wanted to bash his head against the wall and bleed to death. He wanted to slip in the rain and break his neck, he just wanted it to stop. 

But it wouldn’t. 

No matter how hard he tried or how much he gripped his hair and pulled, it wouldn’t stop. 

This all-consuming emotion whatever the bloody fuck it was, George didn’t know. It kept picking away at him. Like his aunties and uncles, like his parents. Like his own fucking head. It wouldn’t stop, it’s never going to stop. 

‘You get what you get,’ George wanted to scream, to kick something.

‘We gave you the world,’

‘We gave you the world,’

‘We gave you the world,’

‘No George you can’t just ask for a new one! Just fuck off and die already!’

After a few minutes, George decided the rain wouldn’t be calming down anytime soon. So he got up and made his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor baby :( Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That night he wondered if Paul was thinking about him. Wondering if the nights George did sleep Paul would be staring at him. Tracing over his knuckles with his fingertips the way George did. Inching closer and closer to his face, half of him hoping he would wake up, and-
> 
> George stopped his thoughts, to curl up into a ball. And after that, he fell asleep. 
> 
> Old habits never die, old thoughts don’t either.

George woke up that morning with a throbbing headache, and he had to remember if he did hit his head against that wall or if it was just a dream. 

He rubbed his head, feeling no blood. So he slowly got himself out of bed and made his way downstairs. 

He walked into the kitchen, seeing none of his family, but a note on the fridge. 

“We went to town, be good,” George rubbed his eyes. He ripped the paper in half and threw it in the trash. 

“Fucking stupid,” He mumbled to himself. He looked at the clock on the counter, it read ‘11:30’ and George wanted to slap himself. 

He sat himself down at the table, not feeling as hungry as he usually was in the mornings or afternoon for that matter. 

He wanted a shower but was too tired to move. He wanted food but was too tired to get up and make something. He wanted Paul but-

Paul. 

George groaned into his hands. 

He wanted Paul but was too tired to move. That was his excuse. 

George sat at the table, playing with his hair that badly needed a wash, and thought about Paul. He hadn’t seen him sleeping in a while, and he felt that he needed at least that from him. 

Or just a smile, or a hug. Or a ‘you’re my best friend Geo.’ But he wouldn’t get it. Not for now of course. All he could do was sit at his table, his head in the clouds and his heart in his stomach, and wait. 

George would have no idea that he would spend his life waiting. And only until he was on his death bed would he get it. He would get a smile and hug, but he never got a ‘you’re my best friend Geo,’ ever again. 

That night they had their gig with Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. George’s first fill in. He was happy to do it, glad to do it. He loved playing guitar and watching bar fights with John next to him. 

He sat in the dressing room with the guys, waiting to go on. Tapping his feet against the ground and humming softly to himself to keep him stable. 

“That’s so stupid!” A girl exclaimed walking out of the hallway and into the dressing room. She sat across from George and crossed her arms. 

She was a blonde with her hair in curls and a skirt and white blouse, probably a school uniform, she only looked about twelve. 

“Hello,” George waved, trying to get her attention. She looked at him and gave a small smile. 

“Hi,” 

“You here for the show?” 

“Unfortunately, Rory’s my older brother,” 

“Hmm, that’s nice. We’re going up next,” 

“I’m Iris,” 

“George,” He shook her hand. 

“Oh, gotta run now. It was nice meeting you,” She got up and left the room. 

The show went well, apart from a few wrong notes on George’s end from his nervousness. 

Maybe it was because a bird talked to him, or maybe it was because John and Paul were all over each other sitting across from him in the booth. 

“Hey Geo,” Paul nudged his arm after John got up to go get some more drinks. George perked up upon hearing his voice. 

“Yeah?” 

“I saw you talking to Rory’s sister earlier,” George’s cheeks flushed a deep red. 

“Yeah,”

“You think you could maybe talk with her some more? So we can get more gigs and things?” George blinked. 

“What?”

“Like y’know, take her out, talk to her. You could shag her if you want,” George shuddered. 

“She’s like twelve, and besides she doesn’t even like me,” Paul shrugged. 

“Whatever you say, hey isn’t that her running out now?” George looked at the door to see Iris wiping tears from her eyes and running outside. 

“Yeah, be right back,” George got up and ran after her. Even though George was fifteen and she was twelve, she was still so much faster. 

The wind rushed through his hair as he chased her through the streets and suburban neighborhoods until he finally grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. 

George didn’t know why he did the things he did. Why he waited outside Paul’s curb, and why he pressed his lips against Iris’s, in an attempt to calm her down. And George’s heart fluttered when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back. 

“Are you alright?” George asked, still close. She nodded and squeezed him tighter. 

“Good, um,” He paused to catch his breath. 

“Do you wanna see a picture? You and me?” She asked after a moment. 

‘I’m not gonna use you,’ He wanted to say. ‘I’m not gonna use anyone,’ 

‘But we can get gigs and things, you want that don’t you Geo?’ 

George sighed, and rested his head against hers. “Yeah,” He could feel her smile. 

“Yeah sure,” 

He came home at about one in the morning, slightly buzzed and that nervous pit in his stomach was still there. 

He crawled in bed, sighing when he released his brother wasn’t there, so he could spread out as much as possible, which wasn’t a whole lot, but it was more than what he usually got. Being the selfish git he is. 

He laid in the middle of the bed, staring up at his ceiling, trying to remember what it was like to look up at Paul’s.

He hadn’t been in a while, Paul’s house. His bed more especially. He would bite his lip trying to remember the pleasant smell of his room, the way the sheets would rustle in the mornings when he would wake up. That was one of George’s favorite sounds, looking over to the side and seeing Paul yawning and blinking his eyes open. 

George would pretend to be just waking up too, although some nights he couldn’t even get a minute of sleep. Looking into that pretty face all night. 

But he eventually found sleep, and when he woke up he noticed he was still curled up in a ball. Old habits never die is what they say. 

That night he wondered if Paul was thinking about him. Wondering if the nights George did sleep Paul would be staring at him. Tracing over his knuckles with his fingertips the way George did. Inching closer and closer to his face, half of him hoping he would wake up, and-

George stopped his thoughts, to curl up into a ball. And after that, he fell asleep. 

Old habits never die, old thoughts don’t either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made George curl up into a ball when he feels sick/disgusted by himself. Hope people caught on lol. Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George couldn’t even form the words for an excuse. He couldn’t come up with some cheeky remark or some boring one. He couldn’t ever explain why he did the things he did. He just did them. 
> 
> He felt two strong arms yank him up and drag him somewhere. He felt the ice-cold breeze hit his face and he opened his eyes to see John staring at him. 
> 
> John didn’t say anything but drape his jacket over his shoulders. George hugged it close and pressed his face against John’s chest and start to cry.

“What’s that pout about eh?” John asked, lowering his face to meet eye level with George. 

“Nothin,” John smirked. 

“Saw you met Iris, she’s cute ain’t she?” George shrugged, chewing on his straw. 

John sighed and crossed his arms on the table. “Not talking to me?” He slapped his hand to his chest. “Breaks my heart, y’know?” He tried to fake a sob. 

George let out a laugh and sat up. ‘You’re cute too,’ He shuddered at the voice inside his head. 

“I’m getting a drink,” John stood up. 

“John?” John turned around and smiled. 

“What?” 

‘You’re cute too,’

“Get me one too?” John rolled his eyes and walked off. 

Paul slid into the booth across from him. “Don’t go in the bathroom, guy tried to nod me in there,” Paul pointed. 

“Hmm, what’d you do to make him mad?” 

“Dunno, he was drunk off his knickers though,” Paul lit a cigarette and handed another to George. 

George waited for Paul to hand him his ciggie to light it, but he didn’t. So George leaned over and placed his against the lit end of Paul’s cigarette. 

“Back off mate,” Paul pushed him down. They both burst out laughing. 

George took a drag from his ciggie and blew the smoke in his face. Paul smirked and blew his smoke back at George. 

“Sod off will ya? Get me a pint or something,” Paul ushered. George shook his head. 

“Johnny’s getting one for me, we could share though love,” George fluttered his eyelashes. Making Paul almost choke on his next drag. 

“Fuck off, you’d get a better chance with John if you’re lucky,” George rolled his eyes like Joh-

“Where is he anyway? It doesn’t take this long to get drinks?” George asked, looking at the bar and seeing no John. 

“Go find him, he’s all yours,” George smirked and got up. 

George pushed his way past Elvis lookalikes and drunks until he got to the bar. 

“John?” He looked down the bar and back. ‘John love,’ His voice echoed. 

“Hey thanks for that,” He heard his voice and peered over to see John emerging from the bathroom, girl behind him. 

He gave her a kiss, and she was on her way. 

George walked over to him and slapped his chest. John crashed against the wall jokingly. 

“Wow son you’re strong,” George smiled. 

“Where’s my fucking pint?” John knicked George’s ciggie. 

“At the bar, ask the lady nicely she might give you a bit more,” John winked. 

George looked over at the girl who was with John dancing with another guy, his smile slowly fading.

“That what you did with her?” John shrugged. 

“Didn’t have to ask her,” George slapped his chest again, this time a bit harder. 

“Fuck off, you leave me for a fucking whore,” John laughed as George hit his chest again and again. George laughed too, half serious. 

“Sorry son, she’ll buy you one if you say you’re with me,” 

“Maybe I will, you won’t be doing much for me anyway,” John put out his ciggie on the wall and flicked it at his face. 

John made his way back to Paul and George’s booth and sat across from him. 

George found himself staring through the night. Staring at John dancing with other girls, sometimes taking them places, sometimes leaving to find Cynthia. George wondered why some girls didn’t pass his test. Why some girls went past his radar, while others got to be with him. 

‘I wanna be in his radar,’ He found himself thinking through the night. 

A rejected girl wandered to the bar and sat next to George. 

“Aren’t you a bit young to be here?” George would just shake his head. 

A lucky one would sit next to him. “Aren’t you a bit young to be here?”

“Aren’t you a bit of a slut to be in the middle class?” He would come back with. She would be shocked and leave the bar, whispering to her friends. 

More and more drinks passed through him that night, so much that he found himself falling out of his seat a few times. 

So, so much that he found himself wrapping an arm around Paul and hugging him close. 

“Pau-Paulie,” He tugged his shirt. Paul would give him a small smile. “How many girls do you think John’s shagged tonight?” He asked. 

“Dunno? How many?” George groaned. 

“Fuck, just answer me,” 

“Ok ok, um. Five?” George snickered. 

“You think I could get five in one night?” Paul shrugged. 

“Sure, you gotta lose your virginity first mate,” George blew smoke in his face, not as playful as it was before. 

“Fuck. You.” He slapped his chest. George pulled away from him and stumbled to the middle of the bar.   
He grabbed a girl that John slept with by the shoulder, the nervous pit in his stomach reminding him of Iris. Probably sober and watching telly at home. 

“Hey, do you like me?” He asked her. She giggled. 

“Sure,” She grabbed his tie and undid it. 

George again found himself more drunk to the point where he was snogging a girl in the backroom, trying to get the most taste of John he could. But he wouldn’t admit that to himself, for now it was just for the count. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” George said between kisses. 

“That’s alright, I can help you,” She gave him another kiss.

“No I mean, I don’t know what I’m doing, y’know?” She gave him a puzzled look. 

“Why am I doing this, I don’t even fucking like you,” He fell back on the couch that was in the dressing room. 

“Well then, why are we about to shag?” George sat up. 

“Whatever you did to him, just do it to me, yeah?” 

“Ok-”

“What did you do to him? Did he like it?” The girl looked down. 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

“I just want whatever he got is all. That’s all I want, I swear,” She stayed quiet. 

George got up and paced back and forth. 

“I’m fucking fifteen, and I’ve still never shagged a girl,” He looked at her. 

“Well? Come on make fun of me, tease me,” She shook her head. 

“Are you okay?” 

“No I’m not fucking okay! He was busy shagging you, while he was supposed to be getting me a pint!” 

“Do you want a pint?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’d fucking love a pint. You gonna give me it in the same hands you were getting him off huh?” 

She looked at the ground. George sighed and sat next to her. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” She looked at him. “I should be at Iris’s, picking her up to go to the pictures,” 

“Who’s that?” 

“We could hold hands through it, and when I dropped her off she’d kiss me goodnight,” He ignored her. 

“Then, why don’t you do that?” 

George couldn’t even form the words for an excuse. He couldn’t come up with some cheeky remark or some boring one. He couldn’t ever explain why he did the things he did. He just did them. 

He felt two strong arms yank him up and drag him somewhere. He felt the ice-cold breeze hit his face and he opened his eyes to see John staring at him. 

John didn’t say anything but drape his jacket over his shoulders. George hugged it close and pressed his face against John’s chest and start to cry. 

“It’s alright,” John rubbed his back. “Stay with me tonight,” It was more of an order than an option. But George nodded his head anyway. 

The crying stopped and was replaced with laughing when George nearly tripped over a curb on their walk to John’s house. That got them both trying to catch their breath before being interrupted with giggles. 

George noticed he never took off John’s jacket until the next day when they saw each other. 

“Shh,” John whispered as he led him upstairs to his room. Once the door was closed George let out a loud laugh that John had to cup his hand over his mouth. “Shut up you fucking dog,” He whispered. 

“You’re the dog,” 

“I’m the dog?” George nodded. “Then what are you?” George smiled. “Oh a vampire,” John tapped his teeth. 

“Sog off, I could bite you,” John yanked his finger away when George clamped his mouth shut. 

John set him down on the bed and took his jacket off. George kept his on. 

“You’re cute,” George blurted. John raised his eyebrow. 

“Yeah? Thought I was a dog,” George started nodding off. 

“Dogs are cute,” John pushed George down and crawled into bed next to him. 

“Vampires aren’t,” John whispered. George turned to his side and frowned when John was already falling asleep. 

George looked up at John’s ceiling, trying to remember the same feeling he got when he looked at Paul’s, John’s room was different, bigger, and more grown-up. Even though he kept his room a mess, George could still tell that John was home. 

“John,” George whispered. “John?” George pushed on John’s neck with his fluffy hair that badly needed a wash. 

“Hmm?” John pushed him away. “What?” George stayed quiet. “What?” John repeated, a bit louder this time. 

“Nothin,” John and George both sighed. George giggled softly. “Hey, John?” 

John groaned. “Hey, Georgie,” 

“How do you give a girl a hickey?” John blinked an eye open. 

“You should know, you bite a lot,” George gave a tired grin. 

“I don’t wanna bite someone unless they’re you of course,” John pulled him closer. 

“You really don’t know?” George shrugged. John tilted his head. 

‘Like a dog,’ George smiled. John planted a soft kiss on George’s neck. 

“Where do you want it?” John asked, not moving from his neck, lips still touching with every word. 

‘You’re not giving me a fucking hickey mate,’ He wanted to saw. Or he thought he wanted to say. If he wanted to say it, really wanted to say it, he would’ve. 

“There’s fine,” John placed his lips against George’s neck once more, and started to suck gently. George sighed. 

“Where’s the biting?” John lifted his head up. 

“You want me to?” George shook his head. John resumed sucking a spot on his neck. 

After about thirty seconds, John pulled up and wiped the saliva off his neck. 

“Like that,” He tapped it. 

Being the selfish git he is, he wanted more. 

“Can I do it?” John grinned and laid down next to him. George lifted his pretty head, and started sucking a spot on his neck. 

“Go ahead and bite son, don’t be shy,” George nibbled softly. John rubbed George’s arm. 

George placed a kiss to the forming bruise and started kissing down his neck. 

‘I wanna be on his radar,’ 

“Hey son, don’t get ahead of yourself now,” George scoffed and brought his head back up to the pillows. 

“Night,” John turned off his lamp. George hummed as a response and shut his eyes. 

John wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer until he was nuzzled into John’s chest. 

“I haven’t had a good cuddle in a while,” George said. 

“I can tell, relax,” George sighed and placed one more kiss to John’s neck, before falling asleep in John’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooo John and Georgie lol
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Make sure he eats something…’ It echoed as if his mind was a cave and the single drop of forming water kept dripping and dripping and dripping until-
> 
> Until he drowned. 
> 
> That boiling feeling flashing from hot to cold, on and off. This one flickering emotion that never seemed to disappear. Ever since he was five, just a little boy. And ever since he watched his best mate cry over his mom. 
> 
> That one overflowing powerful thing inside him. The thing that kept him up at night and stayed with him through the day. Holding his hand like his mom never would and never will. The thing making him terrified when he’s alone.

George woke up in a tangled sweaty mess of arms and legs. He had a throbbing headache that pulsed with every breath he took. 

George stretched out like a cat and curled himself into a ball. 

He had one too many last night, he knew that for sure. He couldn’t remember everything, but what he did remember he kept to himself. 

‘You’re cute too,’ It rattled around in his brain. ‘He’s fab AND cute now eh?’ 

George shivered when the blanket fell down his body. Before he got a chance to grab it, it was lifted back up and softly placed over his trembling body. 

“Thank you,” He instinctively said. 

“Mhm,” 

George laid there for a few moments, embracing the warmth of John’s bed while trying to get his mind off of the boy lying next to him. 

‘What happened?’ He wanted to ask. 

‘Is this your jacket, where’s your mum,’ Anything. 

‘Am I still a vampir-”

“You scared of me or something?” George bit the inside of his mouth. 

“No, why?” He felt John shift closer to him. 

“Cause you’re all huddled up like that,” George chuckled softly. 

“Yeah, just a thing I do,” John yawned and wrapped his arm around George. 

“What would your mom say if she found you like this?” George laughed at that. 

“She wouldn’t care,” John sat up. 

“She wouldn’t care that Teddy Boy Johnny’s sleeping next to you?” George snickered. 

“No,” John laid back down and held George close. 

It took a few more cuddles and giggles for George to sit up and get out of John's bed to follow him downstairs. 

“My mom should be here today,” John said with a smile. George had never met his mom. Well not properly. He saw her after a gig one night, but he thought she was just a fan. And she was. 

George would see her hug John and Stu, applauding them with joy in her eyes. 

John would talk about her a lot. 

And George could easily be the one to make fun of him. Call him a sissy for loving his mom. And he would. He would do it if he got the chance. If John didn’t talk about her with a smile on his face every time, then he would. 

He doesn’t know why he didn’t. Why he couldn’t just laugh at him and get a quick punch in the stomach and it would be over. 

Maybe it was because whenever John talked about Julia, he remembered Mary. 

George hasn’t thought about her in a while. Maybe he did, but he would never truly know. He thought about so many things at night maybe that was it. That was his excuse for why he didn’t think about his mate’s dead mom. 

And when John talked about Julia, George’s heart would shatter just a bit. Because when he looked over at Paul he never thought he could see such a hurt face, hidden behind such a perfect smile. 

“Hey mom,” John walked past her. 

“John what have I told you about manners?” John turned around. He walked back to her and gave a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you, now who’s this?” She pointed at George. 

“I’m George,” He shook her hand. 

“Hello George, he’s a cute one, isn’t he? I’ve never seen him around before,” John bit his lip. 

“He comes over for practice,” John grabbed George’s hand and opened the back door leading to the yard. 

“Oh alright, nice meeting you George,” George waved and followed John outside. 

“For a guy who loves his mum you sure do treat her good,” George said sarcastically, smirking when John scoffed. 

“Fuck off yeah?” George’s smile faded. 

“Just saying mate,” John glared at him. 

“You think we’re mates?” George shrugged. 

“Dunno, are we?” He smiled. John didn’t. 

“See you at practice later,” George looked at John, puzzled. 

“What-” John pulled him to the gate and unlocked it. He pushed him out. 

George stood, frozen, and only moved when John went back inside the house. 

‘I’m sorry!’ He wanted to scream. ‘Sorry for what?’ George scoffed and started walking back to his house. 

‘Fuck him, he’s a fucking jerk.’ George gripped onto hi-John’s jacket. 

‘Fucking friend stealer,’ George’s heart started racing. ‘No good son of a bitch, fucking worthless,’ George gripped his head. 

‘Fucking bastard,’ George unlocked his door and ran upstairs. 

‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him,I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, do I hate him? I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him,I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him,I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him,I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, ’

George felt himself stumbling into the bathroom. He started hitting his head over and over again. 

‘Fucking idiot!’ George slid down the wall and tried to get his breathing back together. 

George started to softly cry into his hands while he clutched himself close. 

‘I’m safe right?’ George sure as hell didn’t feel safe. 

George buried his face into his arms that were resting on his knees. He sat there for a few hours, the thoughts in his head bouncing back and forth. 

He didn’t realize he sat there until evening when his parents got home from work. He was huddled up in his corner and only lifted his head when his brother opened the door and found him. 

“Jesus Georgie, you alright?” George just shook his head. 

When his parents found him they scolded him for crying, and his dad hit him across the head for being soft. 

That night George didn’t sleep at all. He stayed in the bathroom all night, huddled up in his corner. His sister brought him a blanket and tried to convince him to leave but he just stayed. 

When morning came George picked himself up and crept into his room. It was still early and George’s back was hurting from sitting up all night.

“Pete?” He shook his brother. 

“Hm?” 

“You got any ciggies?” 

“Jacket,” George thanked him and picked up Pete’s jacket from the floor, reminding him of the one he had on. He searched the pockets and found the pack, he took a few out and put them in his pocket. 

George took a shower and put on his hair grease and leather. He made his way downstairs and took a seat at the table for breakfast. 

No one seemed to remember last night, and George was glad they didn’t. Or maybe they did, and they just didn’t want to talk about it. George was happy with that too. 

The conversations were normal, George even got to say a few words. His mom questioned his clothing, it was too ‘punk’ she said. George just nodded and went back to eating. His dad said his father would never let him dress that way, and George wanted to come back with some smart remark but he wouldn’t. Just like he wouldn’t mess with Joh-

“Right, I gotta go,” George stood up and grabbed his guitar. 

“Will you be back soon?” His mom asked. George shivered. 

“Yeah, later tonight. I’m gonna take someone to the pictures today,” His brother's eyes widened while his sister smiled. 

George skipped out the door and started walking to Paul’s house. They were practicing there today and George could already feel his heart pounding at the sheer thought of John being there. 

He gripped onto his jacket tighter, hoping he wouldn’t have to give it back. He ought to have more, he was middle class after all. He wouldn’t mind sparing one for his mate if they were mates that is. 

‘Course Geo! Anything for my favorite pal. I think you’re cute too-’

He knocked on the door and shivered when he heard voices inside. 

‘Maybe it’s just Mike,’ It kept repeating in his head. ‘Yeah, Mike,’ 

He waited and waited until he finally got the courage to open the door and walk inside. It scared George that he couldn’t even walk in like he used to. But he was a polite boy, he’s parents taught him well. 

He kept his head low while walking in, hearing Stu and Pete’s voice coming from the sitting room. He peeked his eyes up and when he locked eyes with John he ran upstairs. 

“Paul?” He called, walking down the hall. “Paul?” Paul walked out of the bathroom, flinching when he bumped into George. 

“Oh, sorry Geo,” Paul’s eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed. 

“It’s fine, you alright though?” Paul wiped his mouth, stared at his hand, and sighed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” George followed Paul downstairs, hiding behind him until he had to sit down. It reminded him of grammar school, Paul introducing George to new friends while George just cowered behind him. 

‘Oh go on Geo, they ought to love you,’ Paul said with a big smile. George would just shake his head. 

George felt his cheeks burn up as he took out his guitar and tuned it. Trying to forget about the boy sitting across from him. 

“Fucking hell mate,” Stuart stood up and sat down next to George. George looked up and gave him a confused grin. 

“Little Geo here’s got a hickey,” He announced. George watched as John lifted his head up and stared. Everyone huddled next to George and touched and tapped his neck. 

“Where’d you get that from?” Paul asked. 

‘From your fucking friend John,’ He wanted to say, but instead, he just smiled. 

“Alright, alright, we got a show this Saturday. Do you think people pay to look at George’s fucking hickey?” John said, causing everyone to turn their heads. 

“Ok, John,” They all went back to their spots. George swallowed and went back to tuning. 

The hours passed and George felt his heart beating more and more out of his chest with every word John spoke. Especially while talking to him. John was a lot different when he was sober. He would speak clearly, and he was more mean. But George would have taken it with a grain of salt before. But now every word that passed through his lips George felt as though he was the biggest burden on earth. 

Mike walked in during a song and they all had to stop playing. 

“Uh, Mike leave!” Paul yelled, throwing a pillow at him. 

“Ok fine, just,” Mike grabbed George’s sleeve. “Can I talk to you?” George looked at John and Paul. Paul rolled his eyes. 

“Make it quick,” George set his guitar down and followed Mike into the kitchen. 

“Yeah-”

“I think there’s something wrong with Paul,” George’s eyes widened. Mike was never one to be concerned about people. Especially Paul. When George came over they would fight like cats and dogs and when they weren’t Mike didn’t seem to care about him in the slightest. 

“How do you mean?” Mike looked at the floor. 

“I don’t know, I just feel like there’s something going on,” George stayed quiet so he could continue. “He’s a lot more, mad,” 

“That’s just Paul,” George smirked. Mike let out a dry laugh. 

“Yeah but, he’s so tired all the time. You think he’s sick?” 

“I don’t-”

“A-And sometimes he’ll just be quiet. And I know Paul, he’s never quiet,” George’s heart beated faster when he saw Mike’s hands shaking. 

“I think he’ll be fine, don’t worry,” George rubbed his shoulder. 

“O-ok, just make sure he eats something. I think he might be sick,” George nodded. 

“George!” Paul yelled. 

“Coming!” George made his way back to the sitting room. 

“What did he want?” Paul asked. 

“Nothin,” They went back to playing until it got a bit darker and George said he had to leave early. 

“But we’re all spending the night tonight, can’t you stay?” Stu asked. 

“No, I’m taking Iris out remember?” They all smirked at him. 

“Well, use protection,” Paul said, getting a slap on the arm from Stu. 

“Thanks,” George gave one last look at John and walked out of the house. He had already left John’s jacket on the table earlier, and he hated the feeling of letting it go. 

He found Iris’s house after many unsuccessful tries and rang the bell to her house. The door opened, and George was surprised when Iris was standing there. 

“Oh, hi,” 

“Hi, do you wanna go to the pictures?” She beamed and hugged him. 

“Come in,” She held his hand and pulled him inside. 

George met her mom and dad. Convincing his dad he wasn’t up to anything bad, said hello to Rory, asked him kindly to watch his guitar, and they were on their way. 

“I was waiting for you to ask me,” She said as they walked down the street. 

“Yeah, I was gonna just,”

‘Too busy snogging some whor-’

“Had a lot of gigs,” She giggled and held his hand as they walked in. 

“We’re not watching a horror film,” 

“Yes, we are,” 

“No, we’re not!” George laughed. 

“Fine, we’re not,” 

They held hands yet again as they found a spot that wasn’t too close but wasn’t too far. During the middle of it, Iris rested her head on his shoulder. George’s heart was beating but not for the reason he expected. Or he knew at least. He thought it was beating for her. He always thought that his heart racing was because they held hands, or because they kissed. 

And no matter how much his cheeks flushed and his palms sweated he couldn’t get the thought off his mind. 

‘Make sure he eats something…’ It echoed as if his mind was a cave and the single drop of forming water kept dripping and dripping and dripping until-

Until he drowned. 

That boiling feeling flashing from hot to cold, on and off. This one flickering emotion that never seemed to disappear. Ever since he was five, just a little boy. And ever since he watched his best mate cry over his mom. 

That one overflowing powerful thing inside him. The thing that kept him up at night and stayed with him through the day. Holding his hand like his mom never would and never will. The thing making him terrified when he’s alone. 

And George has come to realize that the feeling wasn’t anything. It wasn’t some monster from a film or on the poster he and Iris passed. It wasn’t someone haunting him from the dead. It wasn’t even his own fucking parents. 

It was him. 

And the thought made him curl up into a ball. 

He wasn’t safe, and he never thought he was going to be ever again. 

So while he walked Iris back to her house, laughing about the funny bits in the film. He kissed her goodnight, took his guitar, promised to call tomorrow, and walked back to his house. 

The feeling holding his hand the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! (btw there's some foreshadowing in this, hope you guys can figure it out)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once in George’s life, he didn’t need to curl up into a ball of tears. John would be his new ball of tears. And though tomorrow they’d probably go back to normal. And George would be forgotten amongst the crowd of birds and booze, this was a night to remember. 
> 
> And George would keep in locked away in his heart, for years to come.

“Shut up,” Stu tossed his napkin at Pete who caught it and threw it back. 

“You shut up, and fuck off while you’re at it,” Stu balled up another one and threw it at his eye. 

“Ow!”

“Alright you fuckers, knock it off,” 

“Yeah John,” They went back to eating. 

Fall was sinking into summer and the boys had a day off and enough money to buy themselves lunch on this particularly sunny day. 

The table consisted of five people. Pete, Stu, John, Paul, and of course George. Who was currently pouring syrup on his pancakes. 

“Still can’t believe you got pancakes for lunch,” Paul sighed. 

“What? They’re good,”

“And that much syrup too,” John pointed at it. George cut them up and bit into them. 

“You’re just jealous I have courage,” George said through a mouthful of food. John rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, courage. Paul is your food here yet?” John looked at Paul who was sipping from his coke. 

“Oh, I’m not hungry,” George felt the dripping in his head. 

“So, what do you guys up to today?” Stu asked, taking a bit of pancake from George. 

“Nothing really, Paul you doing anything?” Paul shook his head. 

“Water might be nice today,” Paul said, reaching over to take one himself. He chewed on it slowly. “We could go out on the water,” 

“Oh that’s right, I can’t,” Stu said. 

“Yeah me neither,” 

“You sissy’s are just afraid of knocking over,” George said, picking up his food with his hands. 

“Well, with John with us, I think it’s an okay thing to fear,” John was too busy sticking fries in his mouth to notice. 

“Look,” He got everyone’s attention. “I’m a vampire,” George choked on his drink. 

“You alright there Georgie?” Paul asked, standing up to pat his back. George swatted his hand away. 

“Yeah, just funny is all,” John and George glanced at each other. 

“So the water it is then?” John and George nodded. They got out of the restaurant saying goodbye to Pete and Stu and began walking to the lake where they would be renting a kayak to go out on. 

“Bad time to be a ted, don't you think?” John asked tugging on his shirt, making Paul giggle. George walked behind them, head in the clouds, and hands in his pockets. 

Paul popped a piece of gum in his mouth and handed the pack to John who shook his head then handed it to George who gladly took a piece. 

“Well, here it is fellas,” John presented the lake. “Most gorgeous thing in Liverpool, unless you count the birds of course,” John spoke in a sailor’s accent. 

“Quit it, we’ll get kicked out,” John, Paul, and George went up to the counter and rented one, they fought about what color. John saying green, Paul saying blue and George saying purple. They decided on one that mixed all of them somehow, or John just wasn’t wearing his glasses. 

“One for Georgie,” He handed the lifejacket to him, put one on himself, and one on Paul. Once they got in and were out deep enough they took them off. 

George sat in the middle while Paul and John sat on the ends. 

‘Cause you’re small,’ 

“Why today of all days has the sun finally come out?” John and George shrugged, too hot to speak. 

“Who’s good at swimming?” John asked. George and Paul perked up. 

“Why?” They asked suspiciously. 

“Just wondering,” John then smirked and started rocking the kayak back and forth. 

“Fucking hell Lennon, stop,” George said, grasping his hands. 

“Oh, you want it to stop don’t you?” George glared at him. 

“Yes!” John put his hands back down. 

Paul’s stomach growled, making John and George turn their heads. Paul blushed. 

“Have you eaten today mate?” George asked, remembering Mike’s words. 

Paul shrugged. “Yeah, I had breakfast,” George nodded. 

“Georgie’s definitely eaten,” John teased. 

“Fuck off,” 

“Oh yeah?” He shook the kayak. George and Paul gripped the sides. 

“Stop it, it’s getting annoying,” 

“Oh, is it?” He shook it again. 

“Yes! Stop asking questions,” 

“Guys please stop fighting,” Paul said softly. George wanted to say sorry. 

“You haven’t seen fucking fighting yet,” John growled at him. George pushed him, making the whole kayak shake. 

“You wanna have it out, right here right now?” George asked. 

“I could fucking kill you, Harrison, you know that better than anyone,” George’s pupils dilated. 

“Fuck you,” George swallowed. “You fucking mama’s boy,” John pushed George down to the floor of the kayak and started hitting his chest. George reached up and ripped at his hair. 

“Guys please!” Water started pouring into it. The kayak managed to drift to a shallow part of the lake and Paul hopped out, getting his trousers a bit wet, but it was better than drowning. 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” John scratched at his neck. Paul tried to pull the kayak up to shore, but it was just too heavy. 

“Go fuck yourself, you’re the one who’s a fucking jerk!” George slapped his face. 

“Guys!” Paul tried to pull them apart but got pushed out of the way. 

“You got sodding drunk and started snogging that bird, who was mine by the way!”

“You’re mad about that! Really?” John gripped George’s neck and squeezed. 

“Yeah, I am!”

“You’re the one who fucking left me!” That’s when John stopped strangling him and jumped out of the kayak. George followed. 

“Guys lets just talk yeah?” Paul stood in between them. John turned around and pushed him out of the way. 

“What do you mean I left you? When I went to go get a blowy and not get you a fucking pint? Was that it?” George kept his head down. 

“Or when you left my fucking house, was that it? Oh, I’m so sorry I kicked you out you twat,” He pushed his chest. George stayed silent. 

“Well?” Paul grabbed George’s sleeve. 

“Let’s go home Geo,” He pulled him. George complied and went with him. 

George was sat at Paul’s kitchen table as Paul made tea. Mike and Jim weren’t home. Paul told George that Mike was at a friend’s house and Jim was at work and wouldn’t be home until late. So George could stay the night. 

“Here,” He placed a cup of tea in front of him. 

“Ta,” He took out the teabag. 

“Dad always does it like that,” Paul sat next to him. “Mom would just keep it in,” 

George smiled. “Yeah?” Paul nodded and sipped from his. 

“So, how was your night with Iris?” 

“Pretty good, she gave me a kiss goodnight,” Paul gasped sarcastically which made George giggle. 

They talked about random things. School, birds, gigs. Anything to keep them occupied. 

George missed this feeling. The feeling of coming over to Paul’s and having tea and playing guitar. Staying up all night laughing and talking. 

Then falling asleep. Cuddled up under his warmth like the warmth of his tea. Feeling his soft skin against his cheek and his strong arms around him. Forgetting that his world at home was a living hell. 

Right here, right now at this very moment, Paul was all his. 

“So, anything weird happening to you?” Paul raised his eyebrow. 

“How do you mean?”

“Just, we haven’t talked in a bit,” 

“Oh, right,” He chuckled. “Um, dunno. Nothing much I’d say,” Paul took a glance around the room. He leaned in closer to George. 

“I think she’s here,” He whispered. George smiled. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I can just feel it, y’know?” George nodded. 

“Can Uncle Jim?” Paul shrugged. 

“Dunno, I asked Mike too, he thought I was going mad,” George snickered. 

“Well, who wouldn’t?” Paul looked around the room again. 

“You believe me, right?” George’s eyes widened. 

“Believe she’s here?” Paul nodded. “Uh, I don’t know Paul,” 

“She has to be right? She wouldn’t just leave me,” Paul sulked back in his seat. 

“No, no I mean of course not but, she’s here?” 

“Yes, I can feel her,” George sighed. 

“Alright. On the topic of your mom,” He stood up. “I can make some food, she taught me a bunch of recipes,” Paul shook his head. 

“I’m not hungry,” Paul stood up too. “You wanna go out?” George blinked. 

“I’m flattered Paulie, but I already have a girlfriend,” Paul punched him in the arm. 

“Not like that you git. Like mates,” George raised his eyebrow.

‘You think we’re mates?’ His brain was overflowing. 

“Alright,” 

“Great, I’m gonna use the loo real quick,” Paul hopped up the stairs. 

George leaned against the counter, picking at his nails until there was a loud and fast knock that jolted him awake. 

The door opened and John ran inside. 

“Paul!” He ran into the kitchen and stopped when he saw George. 

“Fuck Lennon, you alright?” George walked over to him. His eyes were red and his cheeks were wet. 

John shook his head and ran upstairs. “Paul!” George waited at the table, until a concerned Paul and a crying John came downstairs.   
“What? Who?” Paul asked. 

“Ju-Julia, she’s-” Paul wrapped his arms around him before he could finish. 

George stood up when he heard her name. Especially coming out of John’s mouth. He made fun of him. 

‘You stupid git, you made fun of a poor boy’s mum,’ 

“What happened?” Paul asked. John just cried. 

George wanted to say something. He wanted to reach over and hug John as well, telling him it was gonna be alright. 

Why couldn’t he? He sure as hell wanted to, needed to. But he couldn’t. His feet were frozen in the same spot but his heart was beating faster than he ever could have imagined. 

‘He was a jerk to me, that’s why,’ 

‘He was a jerk to you? His mom just fucking died and all you care about is your fucking self,’ 

‘Shut up!’ George’s hands shook as he grabbed John’s shoulder. John looked up, and George pulled him in for a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” George didn’t know what he was sorry for, he just was. Maybe it was for Julia, maybe it was for him. Maybe he was just sorry that he had to be brought into this world in the first place. 

But John seemed to understand because he said he was sorry too. 

John stayed with Paul and George until he had to go home.   
“Alright, be safe,” Paul gave him a hug, and George stayed silent. 

“Are you coming or what?” George looked up. John held his coat for him. George looked at Paul and then stood up. 

George slipped on his jacket, saying goodbye to Paul. 

They didn’t say anything the entire trip, the only thing they had to communicate was when John wrapped his fingers around George’s hand. 

George walked in first, sighing at the warmth of John’s bedroom, still as messy as ever. He slipped his coat off and threw it on the ground. John scoffed and took his off as well. Dropping it on the ground. 

George sat on the end of John’s bed, and John sat across from him in a chair. They were both silent for a moment. 

“What happened?” George asked after some time. His voice breaking. 

“Car,” George hummed. “You think there's heaven?” George shrugged. 

“There has to be don’t you think?” 

“Why does there have to be?” John asked softly. 

“Cause-Cause what’s the point of living y’know?” George snickered. John let out a dry laugh. 

“Yeah,”

“No I’m serious, If there isn’t a prize afterlife then what’s the point?” John looked up at him. 

“You think that’s the only point?” 

“Sure,” John let his head fall into his hands. 

“You’re such a good kid,” George shuddered. “Why are you hanging out with me, what-what do you get from me?” 

“I get to be with you, that’s enough innit?” John placed his hand over George’s. 

“You want me to buy you a drink or a pack of ciggies, what do you…” John sighed. “What do you want?” George lowered his head to try and find John’s gaze. 

“I just wanna be with you, that’s all,” John sighed. 

“That’s what Paul’s for,” George’s heart clenched. “He’s your little friend that you go hang out with downtown, and I’m-I’m nothing,” 

“Fuck you, you’re just doing your stupid shit again,” George squeezed John’s hand, afraid he would let go. 

“What are you talking about-”

“You just want me to feel bad for you, I already do John you don’t need me to do it again,” 

“Fine, I won’t,” John sounded tired. George sighed. 

“You can’t keep feeling bad for yourself, it’s a waste of time,” John looked up. 

“I feel bad about myself every goddamn day. And I realized that the less you feel bad about yourself the sooner it goes away. So stop, please,” George breathed. It was John’s turn to be worried. 

“Alright Geo, I won’t,” John tilted George’s head up. 

“See, I-I’ve never said this shit to Paul,” Tears started flowing down his face. 

“So you can’t be nothing,” John kissed George’s hand. 

“It’s ok George, it’s ok,” John felt his eyes get heavy. “Don’t cry love, please don’t cry,” John pulled George into a hug. George sobbed into his neck and squeezed him tightly. 

“Don’t go, please don’t go,” George whispered. John kissed his head. 

“I won’t, I won’t ever,” George pulled away and wiped his eyes. 

“Good, now quit crying. People are gonna think John Lennon’s soft, but he isn’t remember?” John chuckled and wiped his eyes. 

“Are you gonna be crying when I go?” John shook his head with a grin. “That’s right, cause I’m just a stupid no-good kid,” 

“Yeah, you are,” 

“And when you die, you think I’ll be crying?” John didn’t answer. George seriously considered if he should continue the joke, but the way John squeezed his hand gave him his answer. “No sir, cause you’re just a gross Ted,” 

John smacked George’s leg and started laughing. George giggled too, and soon they were rolling on the bed and crying.   
“Fuck-Stop!” John yelled followed by a giggle. 

The laughter died down, and George couldn’t help but cuddle into John’s side. 

“You think there’s a place for us in heaven, with all the sins we do daily?” George chuckled. 

“There’s got to be, and if there isn’t then we just find a spot in hell,” 

“Have you ever kissed someone?” George blinked open his eyes. 

“I have a girlfriend,” 

“Oh, right,” George sighed. “But that’s like, little kid kissing. I mean have you really kissed someone?” George nodded. 

“That one girl,” John and George laughed. 

“But that’s snogging, I mean kissing,” John turned over on his side. “It’s in the middle of little kid kissing, and snogging,” 

“Then uh, no. Can’t say I’ve ever kissed someone,” John cleared his throat. 

“Then, can I be your second first kiss?” George felt his cheeks heat up. 

“No, you’re gonna hurt me like last time,” John shook his head. 

“I’d never, I promise. Remember I said I’d never go,” George moved in a bit closer. 

John put his hand at the back of George’s neck. “You gotta trust me, Geo,” 

George shuddered. "Why? What's gonna happen?" John froze, and brought his hand down to rub George’s shoulder. 

“I-I don’t know why, I just wanna,” George sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

“Just one?” John nodded. 

“Just one,” George closed his eyes, and John inched a little closer until he could see the cool tears on George’s cheeks. He reached his hand up and cupped the side of his face. 

George was right. He had never been kissed like that before. It was soft and slow. More than a peck and less than snogging like John said. The kiss was deep but passionate as if they had been kissing like this forever. 

‘Don’t let go of me,’ George felt the sudden urge to grab John’s shoulder and grip onto it for dear life. That one subtle move would ruin everything. 

But he didn’t, because the way John kissed him told him everything. 

John didn’t try anything, wasn’t trying to try anything. He just wanted one kiss. And that’s what he got. And when the kiss was over, when their soft hot mouths separated, they went to bed. 

For once in George’s life, he didn’t need to curl up into a ball of tears. John would be his new ball of tears. And though tomorrow they’d probably go back to normal. And George would be forgotten amongst the crowd of birds and booze, this was a night to remember. 

And George would keep in locked away in his heart, for years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house was silent, too silent for George’s liking. 
> 
> ‘Went to town, be good,’ His mind echoed, not even bothering to read the note. 
> 
> ‘Be good,’ He was overflowing. ‘I’ll be good, I’ll be just fine,’ 
> 
> ‘Alone’

“Don’t go,” George mumbled as he felt John shift and push himself up. 

“I’m not, just getting the phone,” George nodded softly. George rubbed his eyes and squinted as he stared out the window. 

“Ello? Oh hi,” He recognized Paul’s voice on the line. “Mhm, yeah be there soon,” He hung up. 

George yawned and waited for John to wrap his arms back around him, but was puzzled when John got out of bed instead. 

“John?” John turned back. 

“Hmm?”

“I said don’t go,” John sighed. 

“I’m sorry, but Paul wants us over in about ten minutes,” George pulled the covers over his head. 

John crawled back on it and shook him gently. “Please Geo, I’m sorry,” John slowly pulled down the blanket. He kissed his cheek gently. 

“I’m not gonna leave you, that’s why we’re going together,” George blinked his eyes open and sighed. 

“Okay,” George pushed himself out of bed and picked up his jacket from the floor. John did the same. 

John grabbed his guitar and they both walked down the stairs. John kicked his bike up and George sat behind him. 

“Where do you live?” John asked as they rode down Penny Lane. 

“Arnold Grove, you can’t miss it,” George claimed. 

George sighed as the cool morning breeze rushed through his hair. Good way to wake him up he supposed. 

George shivered as they passed the lake they were at yesterday. If only he didn’t get so mad, none of this would’ve happened. 

The bike came to a stop and George opened the door and ran up the stairs, John followed. 

“Oh uh, just wait outside,” George said at the top of the stairs. John, being the person he is, didn’t listen. And instead strolled into their living room. 

He saw what appeared to be his Dad reading the paper and smoking a pipe. John walked over with his sideways grin and cocky attitude. 

“Are you Mr. Harrison?” John sat down at the table. 

“Who are you?” John cocked his head. 

“Why I’m John Lennon of Liddypool, you probably fought with my father in the war didn’t you?” 

“Are you Peter’s mate?” 

“I didn’t know Georgie’s name was Peter, the things he never says,” John rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Sure,” 

“Who’s your favorite kid, I mean you can’t say so of course but-”

“Peter,” John swallowed. 

“Not little ol’ Georgie? What a shocker, everyone loves him,” Speak of the devil, George shuffled downstairs. 

“There he is now!” George flinched at John’s voice. His heart sped up when he saw him talking with his Dad. 

“C’mon John, let’s go,” George whispered, a nervous laugh in his throat. 

“I was just trying to embarrass you in front of your Dad. Isn’t that right mister?” 

“Right,” George walked over to John and grabbed his arm. 

“Let’s go, John,” George said a bit more sternly. 

“Alright alright,” John stood up and followed George to the door. 

“George,” His Dad called. George turned around. 

“Yes?” 

“Your mom wants you home by eleven tonight,” George nodded. 

“O-ok,” He then walked outside, John following behind him. 

George got his bike out of the backyard and rode next to John on their way to Paul’s. 

“What’s his deal?” John swerved back and forth to try and scare George. 

“Nothin, he’s just a jerk is all,” 

“Ah, mine too. Well, I wouldn’t know,” 

George and John pulled up to Paul’s house and let their bikes fall in the grass. 

John skipped up the stairs all girly like and George stepped upon them normally if you would even call it that. 

“Knock knock, Mr. McCartney-Oh, hope his dad doesn’t answer,” John stepped away from the door, pushing against George slightly. 

They heard fast steps running to the door, and smiled when Paul answered it. 

“Hey chaps,” He opened the door for them. George’s smile faded when he saw Paul’s hands shaking ever so slightly. 

Like Mike’s. 

“Hey,” George and John said walking in. 

Paul gave John a hug. “Are you alright?” John nodded. 

“Don’t get all soft on me Macca,” Paul smiled and looked at George. 

“Alright, I can make breakfast,” Paul smiled. 

John and George smiled at each other and sat down at the table. 

“Oh, first dad said he wanted me to do laundry, so I’ll be right back,” John and George nodded and watched as he ran upstairs. 

John sighed and stretched his arms. George took out his guitar and started tuning it. 

“So, are we not talking now?” John asked. George looked up and shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” John hummed. 

“Geo you should,” John bit his lip. “You should talk to someone,” George gave a puzzled look. 

“You mean like Paul-”

“No I mean, you should talk to a professional,” George raised his eyebrows. 

“Professional? A professional what?” John sighed. 

“Like, a therapist or something,” 

“Ok,” George looked back down. 

John and George sat in uncomfortable silence. George had to really think if he snogged him last night or not. Well, it wasn’t snogging like he said. 

“Hey, where’s Paul?” George asked after a while. John rose his head up from the table. 

“Doing laundry-”

“He’s been gone for a while,” George stood up and placed his guitar on the floor. “C’mon,” John followed him up the stairs. 

“Paulie?” John called. He followed George through the hallway. 

They looked into the washing room where Paul was laying on the floor. 

“Shit,” George fell to the ground and slapped his face lightly. “Paul,” He shook him. “Paul!” John stood at the doorway, not knowing exactly what to do. “Fuck John call 999,” 

“I can’t, I ran away from them two weeks ago,” George glared at him. 

“All you care about is yourself! Call them!” John scoffed and darted back downstairs. 

George shook him some more and then pressed his face against his chest. His heart was barely beating. 

“Fuck Paulie, it’s gonna be okay,” George told him, half sure of himself. John ran back up the stairs. 

“They’ll be here in five,” 

“Good,” He tried picking Paul up. “C’mon Paul,” George’s heart started beating faster. “You gotta wake up,” John slapped him a bit harder than George did. 

“Hey!” George yelled. 

“What?” George rolled his eyes. Soon he felt a pit in his stomach. 

“Shit, his Dad’s gonna be pissed at me,” John slapped him in the chest. 

“And I think about myself huh?” George pushed him. 

“Fuck you,” John was about to say something back but the sound of someone pounding on the door filled the house. George rushed downstairs. 

He opened the door. “Uh Hi, my friend he-he, I-I actually don’t know what h-happened, he was just-”

“Ok son,” They pushed past him and George told them he was upstairs. 

When they got there John was leaning over and shaking him. He flinched when two police officers came into the room. 

“He’s still breathing,” One of them said, taking his two fingers away from his neck. 

Soon an ambulance arrived and they were putting Paul on a stretcher. 

“He’s gonna be okay right? He’s gonna be fine?” George asked, walking behind them. John grabbed his arm before George could jump into the back of the ambulance. 

“He’ll be fine, where are his parents?” An officer said. 

“His Dad’s at work, can we come with you?” He shook his head.

“Sorry kid, family only,” He then got in the back of the ambulance and shut the door. The cars sped off, leaving George and John alone in the street in front of their friend’s house. 

George yanked his hand away from John’s grip and slowly sat down on the curb. John looked down at him. 

“What are you doing?” John asked. 

“Waiting until he gets back,” John rolled his eyes. 

“That’ll be a while y’know?” George nodded. “Let’s go get some booze or something,” 

“No,” John scratched his neck. 

“I have to find someone for tonight too-”

“God just shut up,” John did. 

George was brought back to the summer of ‘57, that one Saturday morning when he sat outside his house and waited. Waited for nothing. And now maybe he was doing the same thing, he was never one for things like that. It bored him, and saying he was bored would be selfish. 

He felt bad for Mike.

No mom or brother. Could you imagine? Poor Mike. George hated that he knew. Well John too but, it was really just him. 

‘I think he might be sick,’ He didn’t tell anyone else that. And George did nothing with it. Nothing. He probably had scarlet fever or smallpox or-

Or nothing. It was just him. 

“Geo I wanna go,” George didn’t realize it had gotten dark, he looked up at John laying in the street. 

“Then go,” John raised his head up. 

“Mimi’s already planned a funeral, can you imagine?” John asked, ignoring George’s demand.

“Yeah I can, who’s going?” John sat next to him.   
“Well, just the family I suppose, you could come too if you like,” George shook his head. 

“I barely met her, also Mimi hates me,” John lit a cigarette.

“Yeah she does,” 

The sun was finally setting, and George had never seen it from this side of town. He tried to imagine that Paul would come out here, smoke a cigarette and watch the sunset. 

“Stars are pretty yeah?” John asked. George nodded. 

“Yeah, stars are very pretty,” John and George both got lost staring into them. He really wished Paul were here right now, sitting between them. Laughing and giggling at all their jokes, each one trying to top the latest. 

“What are you boys doing here?” Jim asked, looking down at them. George shot his head up. 

“Paul’s at the hospital,” George let out, breath faded. 

Soon John and George were sitting inside as Jim called the hospital and asked him what was wrong. 

“Alright, bye,” He hung up. “I’m going, they say he’s still passed out,” Jim opened the door. 

“Can we come with?” George asked for the second time that day. 

“No, sorry boys,” George sulked back in his seat. “Don’t tell Mikey, he’s staying over at a friend’s tonight,” And then he shut the door.   
“Who’s this here?” John asked, standing by the fire. George looked up, his eyes blurry and tired. 

He stood up and walked over to him. George looked at the picture on the mantle. 

“That’s uh, Mary,” John hummed. 

“Who’s that?” 

“Mary? He’s his mom,” John slapped himself. 

“Right, how could I be so stupid?” George chuckled softly. “I think Jim’s a bit too hard on him, don’t you?” George stayed silent. “It’s like he still has to bloody ask him if he can go out or not,” 

“He’s just protective,” George slipped off his jacket since he was getting a bit warmer. He sat next to John on the floor. 

“Yeah, that’s the word,” John smacked him on the arm. “Weren't you supposed to be home?” George’s eyes widened. 

“Shit,” George picked up his jacket and opened the door. John followed him. 

“It’s a bit late now don’t you think?” George picked up his bike and walked it out to the street. “What about Paul!” 

“Tell him to call me!” George rode away. 

‘Too bad you couldn’t stick around, he could be dead,’ George wiped his eyes. ‘Poor, dead little mate, you could’ve stopped this,’ 

‘You could’ve saved him,’ 

‘He’s not mine to save! He was never my anything,’ George whipped around a corner. 

‘Now what’s that mean? Oh I know what it means,’ George squeezed his eyes shut, probably not the best thing to do while driving. 

‘He wasn’t yours, and he’s never gonna be,’ George started pedaling faster, trying to out run his thoughts. 

‘You wanna know why Georgie?’ 

“No!” He screamed. 

Like a whisper in his ear. ‘Because he doesn’t love you back,’ 

George set his bike in the garage and tip toed inside the house, trying his best to keep quiet. 

Now with his brother off at college, George got to sleep in his own bed. And it seemed even smaller than before, maybe it was because he wasn’t there. 

George opened the door and took off his jacket. 

Sitting on his bed was a small grey cat. George saw her fluffy fur blowing softly under the moonlight. 

“Hello,” He whispered softly. George always loved cats, but his parents would never get him one. He looked at his window that was wide open, it must’ve crawled in.   
He picked her up and before placing it on the windowsill like he planned, he held her for a few moments. 

George shut his window and snuggled up with her in bed. The kitten purred and pushed her face against George’s head, getting him to chuckle. She finally got comfortable and nuzzled into the pillows. His parents would probably go off on all the diseases and such, but George didn’t mind. 

“You’re very pretty,” He petted her back. She opened her eyes and pushed her head against his hand. “Do you think Paul’s gonna be okay?” She didn’t say anything. “Do you think he thinks about me as much as I do him?” George ached at the question. 

She purred once more, and George slowly fell asleep. 

When he awoke, the cat wasn’t there anymore. He would’ve guessed. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and walked down the stairs. 

The house was silent, too silent for George’s liking. 

‘Went to town, be good,’ His mind echoed, not even bothering to read the note. 

‘Be good,’ He was overflowing. ‘I’ll be good, I’ll be just fine,’ 

‘Alone’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so soooooo sorry this took forever. I've just had so much school and personal things going on. But I still hope you liked it! And please comment things I love them too <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He scanned the faces, and it brought him right back to the institute. ‘This is my new friend George,’ It echoed. Same voice, same mouth that was currently dripping with red. 
> 
> It brought him back to when he would lie, looking for the boy’s smiles to turn upwards as a sign of acceptance. 
> 
> But there were no smiles in the crowd. Because George Harrison had just punched Paul McCartney in the jaw. And everyone knew that was bad, everyone. Everyone knew he was hurting. And the one person who knew him better than anyone, hit him.

“McCartney?” The class went silent. “Not here,” 

George tapped his pencil against his desk as his eyes traveled over to Paul’s neglected seat. With every tap his heart pumped a bit faster to the point where he had to excuse himself to the bathroom. 

His heart was beating like he had just run a marathon. His pupils were dilated so big you couldn’t see the dark brown in his eyes. His hands were shaking as he rested them against the sink. 

‘McCartney, McCartney, McCartney, McCartney…” 

He’s not here. 

George hadn’t heard about Paul in a few days. All Jim told him was that he was out of the hospital and resting and he wasn’t allowed to see him. And it’s not like George didn’t try. He would ride up everyday and ask if he could see him. Hoping today he would be better. 

George made his way back to his seat, trying to forget about him. He didn’t know why he cared about him so much, he was mean. So mean. For all he knew he could’ve left him there. He could’ve left him on the floor. 

The bell rang and George made his way out into the warm spring air. He rubbed his eyes and walked down the steps. 

“Fucking finally,” John said, gripping his shoulder.

“What the fuck!” George jumped out of his grip. “Don’t fucking do that you twat,” He rubbed his shoulder. 

“Incredibly sorry princess, let’s go,” George stood his ground. 

“No, where?” John sighed. 

“We’re just going to Paul’s,” He grabbed his arm and pulled. 

“He doesn’t want to see anyone he-he’s supposed to be getting better,” George yanked his arm out. John rolled his eyes. 

“He’s fine, it’s not like he had a fucking heart attack. Come on,” John wrapped his arm around George and walked down the pathway. 

George started getting unbearably hot underneath John’s touch. He was so bloody uncomfortable and he just wanted to lie down. He didn’t want to bother Paul, he just wanted him to be safe. It was stupid really, George was younger than both of them and he still wanted him to be safe. Paul should be the one looking out for George, and even though he did-it was only to make himself look good. 

‘Oh yeah that’s little baby Geo, I know darling I take great care of him. You want to get a pint?’ 

It hurt him, because here he was putting his heart and soul into helping him and Paul wouldn’t-couldn’t, even bat an eye at him. He was incapable of it. He shouldn’t be. He should be with Iris somewhere, or helping his brother work on his car, he shouldn’t be helping Paul. What has Paul done for him?

But he was selfish, because he knew how heartless he was. Paul was heartless, and he couldn’t be bothered with someone like George. Maybe it was because his heart was so big that he had to stop. He had to stop loving people. And George could understand that. He could be a prick too and that’s only because his heart’s been broken so many times he can’t remember how he used to feel. 

He can’t remember what it was like it be full of love. And he’s selfish because he knows why he’s mean. He understands why he’s heartless, and that makes him selfish. And even though he understands him, and he knows how much a heart can hurt, he still keeps waiting. He keeps asking for things and that’s why he’s selfish. 

Instead of walking up and knocking on the door John led him around back to the side of the house. 

“Ladies first,” He bowed. George raised his eyebrows. 

“John I said no, he doesn’t want company right now,” John scoffed. 

“You’re such a baby, I’ll go,” John hoisted himself up on the drainpipe and then crawled in the window. 

“John!” George heard Paul yell. John popped his head over the ledge. 

“Come on,” He called. George bit his lip but crawled up anyway. George wanted to say sorry but he saw how ecstatic Paul was seeing both of his friends. 

“Thank god, I’ve been so bored,” 

“You sure your dad won’t hear?” George asked. 

“Oh no, he’s playing piano downstairs,” Paul set down his cup of tea. 

“Are you feeling any better?” George asked, sitting down next to him on the bed. 

“A bit, I’m still tired,” George rubbed his shoulder. 

“You should get some rest then, we’ll be going,” John slapped his hand away. 

“You couple of queers, we got a gig tonight and I am not letting Ivan play again. Now get dressed and let’s go,” George glared at him. 

“Paul needs to rest-”

“Oh no Geo, it’s fine,” Paul was already slipping on his jacket and grabbing his guitar. “I’ll be fine, a night out will do me good,” George nodded. 

“Ok, if you’re sure,” Paul smiled and walked to the window, George and John standing behind him. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize how far down it was,” Paul said, looking over the edge. 

“You softy,” John grabbed onto the drainpipe and slid down. Paul held his head. 

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m just a bit tired,” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Paul gave a soft smile. 

“Thank you,” Paul reached his hand out and gripped onto the drainpipe. He pulled his feet out of the room. George stood carefully, waiting for him to ask for help. But he didn’t. He just slid down the pipe. 

George followed and walked closely behind Paul and John. They didn’t speak the whole walk making George slightly nervous. They tucked into the Cavern, set down their guitars and sat down on the amps. George sat on the stage and picked at his nails.   
“So Paulie, you mind telling us what happened?” Paul lifted his head up. 

“No,” John rolled his eyes. 

“No? Come on,” Paul locked eyes with George. 

“I just passed out, I’ve seen you do it a number of times Lennon,” John snickered and punched his shoulder. 

“How’s school? I didn’t miss too much did I?” George lifted his pretty head. 

“Uh, no. Quite boring really, wish I could be sick like you,” There was a flash of sadness across his eyes. 

“Right,” He mumbled, turning back to John. 

A few hours filled with joking and playing Elvis songs passed, and it was almost time for the show. George was worried about Paul, even though he already established he shouldn’t be. 

‘Oh so when he is hurting you couldn’t give a shit about him, but when he doesn’t need you you’re all over him?’ 

He did well enough on stage, apart from the few times he almost lost balance, but George was right there behind him. He wanted him to fall. Either to fall into his arms or to just fall, he didn’t know which. He cringed at the thought. He could split his head open, get brain damage and forget about everything. How to play guitar, so he could never have to deal with his pretty, sad eyes ever again. 

If he was gone, which George didn’t want. He wanted him here, he always did. He’s never wanted to be away from him, he just wanted him to be Paul again. And it was stupid and selfish but George didn’t care. He knew people grow and sometimes you have to let things go. But George didn’t want to do that, and he never thought he had to. If Paul fell back and forgot then he would never have to speak with him again. And if he did, he would make sure Paul stayed right next to him, where he belongs. And it’s stupid and selfish but George didn’t care. 

He wished he would just stay right next to him, where he belongs. He wanted him all to himself like he was a new record or a plate of scones and tea and he never ever wanted to share. 

And maybe, just maybe if Paul were to fall back and forget then he would be all his. 

So George stared at the back of his head, and waited for his best mate to fall back and hit his head. But he never did. And George was relieved in the sense that his thoughts didn’t become true. But he was also saddened that it didn’t happen. 

After the show everyone bought their pints and took out their ciggies and George watched from a booth, sipping a coke like a fucking child, watching his best mate attempt to dance with a bird he had just met. Wishing and hoping he would come over. But he also wanted him gone. He didn’t know if he was just being petty or if it was something deeper than that. Something locked inside his heart trying to get out. He didn’t want to know, what he did know scared him. 

“George what the fuck!” Paul held his face. George woke up and looked down at his hand covered in his best mate’s blood. He didn’t speak, and instead looked around the crowd of people gasping and booing at him. Because he had just hit Paul. Their Paul. Even though he was supposed to be George’s Paul. What kind of monster would hit that baby faced, sad eyed boy. 

‘His fucking mom died and you hit him!’ 

He scanned the faces, and it brought him right back to the institute. ‘This is my new friend George,’ It echoed. Same voice, same mouth that was currently dripping with red. 

It brought him back to when he would lie, looking for the boy’s smiles to turn upwards as a sign of acceptance. 

But there were no smiles in the crowd. Because George Harrison had just punched Paul McCartney in the jaw. And everyone knew that was bad, everyone. Everyone knew he was hurting. And the one person who knew him better than anyone, hit him. 

He couldn’t even mumble a sorry. He didn’t know why he did the things he did, he just did them. 

He walked through the boys, none of them jumping him or screaming. Just watched as he walked from the bar and into the cold Liverpool air. His back hit up against the wall, the same wall he had cried into John’s shoulder that one drunken night. 

Maybe it was because he was seventeen and didn’t know any better. His mind was so foggy he couldn’t tell left from right, good from bad. He couldn’t see anything past the voices. But for now, they had all shut up. He couldn’t feel a bone in his body, he couldn’t feel the rushing of blood coursing through his veins as he slowly breathed in and out. 

He was nothing. He was silent, and he was nothing. 

‘Don't aim too high son, settle for the worst before settling for the best,’ 

He knew what he had to do, so he pushed himself off the wall and made his way back home. The feeling inside of him was too scared to even hold his hand anymore. And that’s when George knew he was absolutely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Comment if you want lol


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wouldn’t say it was a love-hate relationship because he hated Paul McCartney 99.9% of the time. He annoyed him to the blink of insanity and made him want to claw his eyes out so he wouldn’t ever have to see his pretty face again. 
> 
> But there would be moments, small fragments of time that made George’s heart leap out of his chest because Paul McCartney was annoying him. Not John or Stu or for god sakes his parents, him. Paul took time out of his busy schedule to bully little Georgie to the point where he went home crying. 
> 
> If it was anyone else he would find it lame or pathetic because he knew he could win an argument with any one of those fuckers but because it was Paul, his Paul, it was different.

George’s clock ticked softly as he stared down at his desk. He had just left the Cavern. He wouldn’t even say broken-hearted, he couldn’t feel anything. George wiped his eyes as more tears rolled down his cheeks. His breathing was uneven and shaky, his heart was beating slower and slower by the minute. It’s the first time he’s had a good cry in a while. 

He felt bad for whoever were to find him. How they’d have to call the ambulance, go to court, bury him. Listing them off in his head made George shiver. 

He knew the world would be better without him-Liverpool would be better without him. John and Paul-

John and Paul. 

Paul would be better without him. 

John and Paul were perfect for each other. Paul was everything George wasn’t. Paul didn’t cry or yell or throw fits. He didn’t complain about his problems or stay out too late and waste the whole day by sleeping in. He wasn’t a bad son to where his dad would hit him across the head and leave bruises for weeks. 

And John-John liked him. Liked him more than George. Acne face, vampire fanged George. Compared to Paul, who was funny and popular and happy. He was happy, and George wasn’t. 

‘Now you’re just being selfish,’ Yes, yes he was, and he knew that. And he was about to commit the most selfish act ever but he didn’t care. He didn’t care because it would finally be over. He wouldn’t have to suffer any longer-and thinking that thought resulted in voices screaming at him, because of course he always made everything about himself. 

‘Paul was in the fucking hospital you twat, and you’re the one suffering?’ 

George gripped his head. The phone downstairs started ringing. He wanted to go get it. Could be mom, could be dad. Could be Peter calling to check in on him. Could be Paul. 

Why would it be Paul, he hurt him. 

“I hurt him,” George said to himself, his voice breaking and hand trembling as he reached for a ciggie. He lit it up with shaky hands and took a long drag from it, half the cigarette gone by the time he was done. 

The phone wouldn’t stop ringing and ringing. It was echoing inside his head as he took another drag. 

‘What if it’s Paul checking in?’ But George had already established that he was heartless. They both were and George couldn’t keep waiting anymore, he knew what he had to do, and he wasn’t really that scared. Every day bled into the next of waking up and going to school and coming home and going out and getting drunk and high and fucked up and the next day he just did it all again. 

Maybe he thought he was special. That he wasn’t just every teenage boy going through a phase, he sure as hell didn’t feel like that. He felt as though there was something more; something deeper, clawing at his insides and running his mouth and brain, making him hurt people he loved-

Loved. 

He loved him. He still does, and that’s why he’s selfish. 

George was naked apart from his boxers, standing over the full bathtub, breathing deeply as he looked at his reflection in the water.   
“McCartney,” He whispered, tapping his hands against his thighs. He snickered. “McCartney, McCartney, McCartney,” George clicked his tongue. He stepped into the bathtub, shivering as the icy water flowed around his ankle. He put another foot in. He lowered himself, flinching when the water hit his back, pulling away slightly but then remembering:

‘You have to do this,’ 

He laid down completely, his body getting used to the temperature of the bath, his chest heaving, and heart-pounding. His head was still above the water. He picked his nails. 

“McCartney, I fucking hate McCartney,” George scowled to himself, pulling off a bit of skin and watching it start to bleed. 

“But I love Paul,” George sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. 

He wouldn’t say it was a love-hate relationship because he hated Paul McCartney 99.9% of the time. He annoyed him to the blink of insanity and made him want to claw his eyes out so he wouldn’t ever have to see his pretty face again. 

But there would be moments, small fragments of time that made George’s heart leap out of his chest because Paul McCartney was annoying him. Not John or Stu or for god sakes his parents, him. Paul took time out of his busy schedule to bully little Georgie to the point where he went home crying. 

If it was anyone else he would find it lame or pathetic because he knew he could win an argument with any one of those fuckers but because it was Paul, his Paul, it was different. 

George slowly slipped his head underwater. He opened his eyes, let his breath go, and waited. 

‘McCartney, McCartney, McCartney…’

‘First night out and you fucking hit him,’ George rolled his eyes. Nothing could bother him anymore. 

George felt his eyes get heavy so he closed them, the water filling up in his lungs, and soon enough, he fell asleep. 

The first thing George noticed when he awoke was a bright light shining down on him. He groaned, covered his eyes, and turned over. He lets his arm fall off the side of his bed-or what he thinks is his bed-when really his fingertips were met with soft grass. 

George opened his eyes and looked down. Definitely grass. George rubbed his eyes and yawned. He stretched out like a cat and before he could curl himself into a ball he fell out of whatever the hell he was sleeping in and landed on the soft grass. George blinked his eyes open until he could see his surroundings. He was sitting underneath the blades of a willow tree, a few birds could be heard chirping from above. 

He looked up to where he was sleeping to find a hammock rocking from side to side in the breeze. 

“Oh you’re up,” Came a voice. George looked over the hammock to see where it came from. His eyes were still adjusting, but he saw a figure place down a tray in the grass. “Well come on,” George crawled over to it and his blurry eyes saw a tray of tea and scones. 

“Mary?” George pondered, sitting down. 

“Mhm,” She answered, pouring him a cup of tea. She handed it to him and George took the cup with shaky hands, sighing at the warmth. 

George let himself look up through wet lashes to see Mary mixing in some sugar to her tea. Something bumped into his side and he looked down to see a small gray kitten, the same one in his room the other night. 

“Oh, there she is,” Mary said. “I’ve been looking for her all day,” The kitten waddled over to her side and nuzzled into her palm. “That’s a good girl Bumblebee,” George snickered. 

“Bumblebee?” Mary smiled and nodded. 

“I had her when I was a kid, she did pass before she got any bigger though,” George nodded. 

“Where am I?” George finally asked. 

“My old home in Sussex. I thought you’d like it here,” 

“I do, it’s very bright,” Mary giggled and ruffled up his hair. George sighed as Bumblebee crawled into his lap and laid down. He felt calm for the first time in years. His head wasn’t pounding with every breath he took and his eyes didn't feel heavy. He can’t remember the last time where his throat didn't feel clogged or his body ached. He didn’t feel-

“Sick,” George looked at her. 

“What?” 

“You’re sick George,” George brought his hand up to his forehead. “No, not like that silly,” She giggled. George smiled. “Do you feel sick George?” 

“I-I don’t know,” George answered. Mary rubbed his shoulder. 

“I know you’re going through a rough time right now, it’s hard to lose someone you love,” George’s lip twitched. “Especially losing them to someone who you think is better,” George bit the inside of his mouth.

“It’s not fair,” He mumbled. “I try so hard, a-and then he just shows up and makes it look so easy,” 

“Makes what look so easy?” George stroked the cat’s head. 

“Winning him over,” He answered. She kissed his head. 

“He is stubborn isn’t he?” George snickered. 

“Yeah,” 

“But let me tell you something, maybe it’ll help you,” George nodded. “He’s eighteen, he drinks all night and smokes all day, he’s having a hard time in school, low self-image and,” She paused. 

“And what?” She smiled. 

“He’s surrounded by boys who all have one thing in common, do you know what that is?” George pondered for a moment before shaking his head. 

“No,” 

“They all have moms,” George’s heart sank as if it was filled with water. 

“Oh,” 

“Except for one, you can’t blame him for being mean George. No one understands except for him,” George looked up at her. 

“I know, but I wish it was like before,” She pulled him closer until his head was placed on her chest, he breathed in the summer air. 

“I know darling, but if he loves you he’ll come back,” George smiled. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” George cried, hugging her tighter. She smiled and patted his head. 

“Me too angel,” George smiled and closed his eyes.

The warmth of the sun and softness of Mary’s clothes turned into cold air and even colder water. Everything came back. He had a headache, his bones hurt, his throat felt full and his heart was still broken. He thought he could just go back to sleep, he’d really like to. It was quite hard when someone was shaking him. 

“George! George you fucking jerk!” He knew the voice, especially when it was screaming at him. He opened his eyes and that’s when the water came up. He choked and coughed up what he thought was half of the bathtub. His eyes stung and he could barely see because of the wet lashes blocking his vision. But when his eyes did adjust, he was met with the most hurt face. There were tears streaming down his face, his eyes were puffy and red and he was silent, just staring into his eyes as he held his face in his hands. 

It brought him back a few years, the same boy that looked up at him and without saying anything-said everything. 

“I’m sorry for hitting you-” Paul tackled him, hugging him so tightly he might die, he coughed which made Paul pull away and apologize.   
“George,” Paul cupped his face and brushed away the water. George tilted his head to the side. “Don’t ever fucking do that again,” A wavered smile appeared on his face. Paul reached down into the water and brought his hand back up. He brushed his hair down so George had bangs. 

“I like it like this,” George smiled. 

“Maybe I’ll style it like this when I get better,” He suggested. Paul beamed. 

“Yeah,” Paul leaned in a bit closer. 

“What are you doing?” George scolded himself for asking. 

“Counting your freckles,” He whispered, before placing his lips against George’s. George’s eyes widened and he let out a small whimper. He felt Paul pulling away, but he couldn’t lose him again, so he placed one wet hand on the back of his neck and the other cupped his face. 

When he closed his eyes, it brought him back to the first of many bus rides. Where it felt like they were the only two people in the world, shaking hands. If George knew he would have to watch him find a new friend, have to watch him cry, have to watch him be carried to the fucking hospital, then he would’ve told him he loved him. 

When their lips parted, Paul stood up and pulled George out of the water, he shivered and before it could go on any longer Paul wrapped his jacket around him. He much preferred his than John’s. 

“C’mon, let’s warm you up,” Paul whispered, leading him to the living room. George complied and sat down by the fire. Paul then ran upstairs and brought down some of his clothes. George thanked him and gently slipped on his trousers and a new shirt. He held onto Paul’s jacket though. 

“Thank you,” George said as Paul started the fire. 

“No worries George,” He blinked. He hadn’t heard his full name come out of those pretty lips in ages. It was always Geo or Georgie. He couldn’t complain, he liked the way those names made him feel. 

Once the fire had started Paul joined him on the chair, it was just big enough for both of them. If only they were fourteen again they could maybe both fit, but for now, it was fine because Paul’s warmth was pressed against him. 

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Paul asked after a moment. George shrugged. 

“Just wanna make life easier for everyone,” He mumbled. Paul grabbed his face and turned it up to him. 

“Don’t ever say that George,” He stroked his cheek. George melted into the touch. “God you’re so pretty,” George smiled. 

“You think?” Paul giggled. 

“Course I do, I think you’re bloody gorgeous,” George reached his hand up to touch Paul’s hand. 

“You’re prettier,” George mumbled. George gasped softly when Paul’s face turned a light shade of pink, or maybe it was just the fire. 

“Quit it,” Paul turned his head away bashfully. George rubbed his head against his neck. 

“I really do think that y’know, you can get any bird you want,” George snickered. Paul kissed his nose. 

“I don’t want any bird Geo, I want you,” George’s smile faded. 

“Me? What’s so special about me?” Paul looked at him like he was crazy. 

“Cause it’s you!” He cupped his face. “You’re so bloody cute and sweet and perfect,” George didn’t think he could take any more love. 

“Same with you,” Paul sighed and snuggled up into George’s side. George lazily played with his hair. “Y’know, we could both go see someone,” Paul opened his eyes and hummed. 

“Who?” 

“Like a therapist or something, I sure as hell need to go,” Paul smiled. 

“Yeah, I really need one too, but I still haven’t told Dad why I passed out in the first place,” George rubbed his shoulder. 

“Well that’s okay, you think I’ve told mine?” Paul giggled. 

“This whole starving thing isn’t working out y’know? I mean it worked in the beginning but now it’s like I can’t get out,” George didn’t understand, but he nodded his head anyway. 

“When did it start?” George asked. 

“I think when I was sixteen, I had thoughts about it at fourteen. Y’know it hurts being yelled ‘puppy fat’ at all day,” George’s heart hurt. 

“Well if it means anything, I think you look good all the time,” Paul smiled. 

“Thanks, Geo,” George smiled. 

“Do you really want me?” George asked. Paul rolled his eyes with a smile. 

“Course, break up with your girlfriend first,” He yawned. George’s eyes widened. 

“S-sure,” George saw the small scar on his lip. “Does it hurt?” He brushed his thumb over it. Paul shook his head. 

“No, I deserved it,” George giggled. “I’ve been a shit friend, I hope you can forgive me,” 

“Of course I can,” 

“When do your parents come home?” 

“Tomorrow afternoon they said,” A smile spread across Paul’s lips. 

“Good,” He hugged him tighter. George patted his head and yawned. Paul opened his eyes. “How about another kiss before we go to bed?” George’s skin turned pink. “Only if you want,” Paul clarified, sitting up. 

“No I want to, just nervous,” Paul pouted. 

“Why are you, nervous love?” Paul rubbed his stomach. It calmed George down a bit. 

“It’s silly, I think you might leave me,” George mumbled, looking down at Paul’s hand on his stomach. It wasn’t too scary of a thought. Paul leaving. Everyone else had, Paul was supposed to stay. He was entitled to. George didn’t mind if others circled through his life coming in and out, but his heart would never heal if Paul left him. Even after now, getting him all worked up for a bloody kiss. He wondered if he would kiss like John, or like Iris. He didn’t want him to kiss like either of them, because if he did, it wouldn’t be special. It wouldn’t be Paul’s kiss. He didn’t have the courage to tell him that it couldn’t just be one more kiss before he went to bed. George would whine and whimper like a little puppy if he didn’t get more. Maybe he would just lay in bed and let Paul pepper his face with kisses until he fell asleep. It would be the only thing to make him feel safe. He hated that. He knew Paul would leave him one day and he wasn’t prepared for that. He would never be. Because Paul is Paul and if he ever left, George wouldn’t know what to do. 

“Oh Geo,” Paul giggled. “That is silly, I’d never leave,” George sighed. 

“Good, then yes,” Paul smiled and leaned in for another kiss. George filled the space and kissed him softly. After the kiss, Paul pulled George up from the chair and walked up the stairs with him. They both settled in bed and sighed. 

“You’re my best friend George,” Paul whispered, snuggling up to him. George smiled. 

Maybe he didn’t have to wait after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry this took sooo long to publish, I had lots of school work to do but the chapter is finally out!!! I hope you enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading!


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